


Gavin... please.

by theangrymortal



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Blowjobs, Coming Untouched, Drinking Games, Fluff as fuck, Gavin is a guitar Gay with sexy tattoos that have no meaning, M/M, Masturbation, Maximum Pining, Oh shit!, Past Abuse, Well - Freeform, and its gonna set him OFF, bc gavin is dumb!!! and doesn't know how to just be nice!!, but it's shortlived i promise, complete for now, connor is... a little shit, everything past 38 will be oneshot material but will be in universe, like... they will Be Sof together, past homophobia!!!, peaceful ending, slowish burn, texhnically coming BARELY touched, u better believe gavin is gonna see connor lick some shit, whatever happens is gonna be consensual i PROMISE
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-13
Updated: 2018-08-14
Packaged: 2019-05-21 22:08:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 38
Words: 35,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14923719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theangrymortal/pseuds/theangrymortal
Summary: Gavin is... a terrible dumbass, this is not NEWS.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> so, this is my first ever fanfic, if u have critiques, pls feel free to drag me!!!! 
> 
> i was content with just reading, but after almost 2 weeks of very little gavin/connor fic, i realized.... damn, i really gotta make the content i wanna see, huh.

Gavin doesn't fucking get it. 

Doesn't get why his eyes dart to a certain doe-eyed prick every chance they get. Doesn't get why his hands get all gross-clammy when he says more than two not-so-carefully-chosen insults.

Doesn't get the way his heart jumps out of his chest (he hopes, he fucking _prays_ , that Connor's heart-monitor-bullshit-thing he does with Hank isn't involuntary, that the android has to focus to do it, because he'd rather die than have him think he was excited to see him) anytime he happens to run into Connor in the break-room, or at a crime scene.

Alright, Gavin is lying to himself. He DOES get it, he just doesn't fucking WANT to. He hates androids. (He's _supposed_ to hate androids.) But this, fucking plastic prick, can't give Gavin a single reason to hate him. Well, that's a lie. Gavin can EASILY hate him for being unavailable, for all the times he's caught Connor's eye, only for Gavin to look away first. He can hate the way Connor just _stares_ , no expression, when he observes Gavin. He can hate the way Connor looks at him indifferently, but looks at Hank like he's fuckin' GOD or something. He _can_ hate how inseparable the two were, but he managed to hate the reason he felt that way _more_. 

He likes him. Gavin likes Connor, a heart-wrenching, absolutely fucking ridiculous amount. He would never say this out loud. He could barely manage to say it in his fucking head.

But, how could he not? It was like Cyberlife took a spoon to Gavin's brain (the wet dream, soulmatey part) and scooped out his fucking dream man. The way his dark, chocolate-brown, smooth-as-goddamn-silk hair was so perfectly smoothed. (Gavin can't ever _not look_ when that single lock comes un-gelled and falls in Connors eyes, can't ever not look when Connor nonchalantly brings a perfectly manicured hand to put the strand back in it's place, and he can't help but think about putting Connor in _his_ place and- oh my fucking god, he wishes he could stop.) The way Connor's voice was so low, but so soft, just as innocent as it was sexy, and _FUCK_ , Gavin's daydreaming again.

 _Connor straddling him in a loveseat (his loveseat,_ their _loveseat in this fantasy), synthetically-blushing, but moaning for_ real _, his usual uniform unbuttoned all the way to his belly button. Connor's arms around his neck as Gavin's hand slides under his not-so-buttoned button-up, leaning into his touch, almost purring when Gavin's hand barely caresses his nipple, shuddering when his other hand goes to the android's uncomfortable-looking but unbearably sexy-to-Gavin tent and_ presses-

"Detective Reed." Connor, in his choir- _man_ , occasionally-moled glory, stood in front of Gavin's desk, his eyes scanning Gavin's untouched work (and maybe that's a smile, it's so small Gavin can't be sure, but his heart fucking _stops_ anyway.) Gavin almost gasps, but stubbornness, and pure dumbassery wire his mouth shut. Those same two Saints open his mouth.

"The fuck you want, dipshit?" Gavin wishes he could punch himself in the fucking nose sometimes. Connor is unfazed, still scanning over his desk, it hurts as much as relieves.

"Lieutenant Anderson and Officer Miller have both happened to catch the flu. Captain Fowler has assigned us to a possible serial homicide involving an android. We are to head over there, As Soon As Possible." He enunciates the last four words for no clear reason, and Gavin is able to make fun of that for half a second before he feels like he's been hit by a truck.

A day (maybe longer) with Connor, _alone_ (except for the dead body, and the police, and the photographers, and the possible witnesses, but whatever,) maybe they'll talk and Gavin will manage to not be a hostile asshole. Maybe Connor will smile at him, like he does Hank. 

"Let's get a fuckin' move on then, plastic." He wishes he could just say his name but he _can't_. Connor. Connor. Connor. Just the way it falls off Gavin's tongue (he's only even said it to empty rooms) sets all the stupid fucking butterflies in his stomach right-off. Connor would know instantly if Gavin suddenly used his actual name instead of terrible aliases. Maybe he'd mention it. Maybe that wouldn't be such a bad thing. But Gavin couldn't, wouldn't, ever take that chance. 

"I'll follow you then." At this, Gavin's heart involuntarily skips a beat. _If a grown man could swoon..._ He hopes Connor doesn't notice.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for your comments!!!! i love you! :-)))

Connor doesn't know what to make of Detective Gavin Reed.

When he'd first arrived at the Detroit precinct, Detective Reed had proven to be hostile (an asshole, Hank would say) towards Connor at any given chance, sometimes physically. But recently... that was where Connor's previous label of the detective (that is, an asshole) had gotten less... concrete.

It wasn't as though the name calling had stopped (not by any means,) it was more so that there seemed no longer to be any weight behind them. Connor may have realized he's not adept at understanding human's emotions (not as well as a deviant's) but he could easily tell that something had changed with the detective.

There was also the multitude of physiological reactions put so easily on display nearly any moment he happened to catch sight of Detective Reed. Lieutenant Anderson ( _Hank_ , Connor keeps forgetting to call him Hank, now) had told him how invasive his scans could be, but Connor can't exactly help himself when information is so... On Display as it is with Gavin.

He hadn't hesitated to go to Detective Reed's desk as soon as Fowler told him of a possible case. Gavin seemed... to be in some sort of trance, looking into his monitor, but not touching a single key. Just... staring. Connor waited a few beats before addressing the detective directly.

Reed's eyes unglazed almost immediately and Connor easily picked up his quickened heartbeat. Connor chocked it up to him simply being caught unawares. He also picked up on the detective scooching a bit closer to his desk, but despite his programming, he didn't know what to make of that one.

~~~

They have been in the car for at least 10 minutes and Detective Reed shows no signs of speaking (every so often, his heart rate picks up). This is... awkward. Connor has recently learned to recognize that. There's a sort of electricity that comes with awkwardness, like static from a thunderstorm. He's been thinking of what to say for a few minutes, something that wouldn't set the detective off in some way, and analyzing him as he does so. Hank has told him it's a terrible habit. It doesn't stop him. 

Detective Gavin Reed. Criminal Record: none. DOB: 10/07/2002. Facts Connor already knows. Boring. Connor loves puzzles, the feeling of victory when unlocking an answer. He loves the _purpose_ given to him when he solves mysteries. That's 96% of the reason he came back to Detroit PD (the other 4% was all Hank). 

The Detective is a puzzle. Is how Connor rationalizes why he's so curious about the scar on his nose. Because he has no other acceptable reason to be so fixated on how the detective got it.

Connor's been thinking a lot more since deviancy, but also... _not_ thinking, going with his impulses (something he's barely discovered, something _Hank_ taught him.) He decides to go with his gut for this one.

"Detective, can I ask you a personal question?" is said at the very same time as "Would ya stop starin' so much?"

Connor looks to the road, a tinge embarrassed(? that's new,) but not before catching sight of the detective's expression. He doesn't know what to make of it. All Connor could focus on were the detective's cheeks. _Pink_. That fascinates him. He brings his focus back to the present. Silence passes for a few beats.

Detective Reed's voice rumbles next to him.

"Yeah, whatever, ask away-" Connor interrupts him before he can get an insult in.

"How did you get that scar?" He taps his nose while he asks, so the detective knows exactly which scar he's talking about. Connor wonders if that was unnecessary, before the detective's face loses it's former flush. 

"I-uh..." Connor watches his fingers wrap a little tighter around the steering wheel. Watches his grey eyes shift around. Connor thinks he looks uneasy. He's glad they've reached the crime scene.

"Detective Reed, we're here." He acts as though he doesn't hear Detective Reed's sigh of relief.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> u know what.... i might make this a lil angsty ;-0 gavin might just have... a sob story
> 
> writing connor is a little weird, i hope reading him is Jus Right.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> connor..... pls stop licking things that aren't gavin ;-)
> 
> there's a little bit of dismemberment, but not for long!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope u enjoy!! (if u catch errors, don't be afraid to tell me!)

Gavin's heart swells when Connor taps his nose, before instantly deflating when he registers what exactly the android asked.

He's had one-night stands where the other guy tries to get chummier than necessary, asks about his scar, and he's always been able to come up with something offhanded. _Some prom-king thought I was tryna fuck his girl in highschool, no big deal_ or _Tried to split up a barfight before takin' a glass to the face._ Neither of those are true, and he can't bring himself to lie to Connor, at least not directly like this.

"I-uh..." He can feel himself distantly gripping the steering wheel. He knows his face is fucked up, there's no way it can't be. Gavin can feel the words slithering up his throat, and he _can't lie to him._

"Detective Reed. We're here." Gavin can almost hear an unspoken _"It's okay."_ but there's no way, no reason for Connor to be considerate of him, after all the needless bullshit he's thrown on him.

Gavin waits for Connor to step out of the car to run a anxious-clammy hand over his face. _Alright. Alright. Get outta the fucking car already._ He gets out and shuts the door harder than necessary, before searching for a certain plastic asshole. His heart (always doing some uncalled for fuck-shit) hurt a little less when he saw Connor waiting for him at the entrance to, wait shit, where were they? _What the fuck?_ Gavin steps into the purple glow of the Eden Club in a sort of shock. How in the hell is this _brothel_ still running. You'd think after kinda-recognizing androids were people, maybe they'd put a stop to this kinda thing-

"Some androids simply wanted to be paid for their... services. Not to be removed from them entirely." He's reached the door to find Connor matter-of-factly somehow reading his fucking mind, gazing up at the neon sign, casting his stupid-perfect face in a pinky-purple hue. Gavin is glad Connor isn't looking at him for a second so he can finally just fucking _appreciate_ the way he's... put together. The way his eyelashes cast shadows over his cheeks, the way his lips just slightly part when he isn't talking. Gavin's eyes are so easily drawn to the beauty marks, lovingly placed by some sort-of god, and Gavin wishes he could call Elijah Kamski (or whoever the fuck designed Connor) himself and thank him. He can't help but stare. 

Connor's sickeningly-soft brown eyes turn to him, his head still lifted to the sky. His eyebrow quirks in That Way and Gavin could just about fucking tear up.

"Huh?" is the stupid (oh god he's stupid) response to whatever it was that Connor said, he'd already forgot. Connor's lip twitches up and Gavin is suddenly glad he's an idiot.

"I said" he makes a gesture with his hands, "Shall we go in, Detective?"

"Uh, yeah, sure. Let's get a fuckin' move on then." There's a pregnant pause between the two of them, before Gavin decidedly gives up on the prospect of watching Connor walk in front of him, and takes Connor's invitation to enter first.

Gavin, despite sudden recent interest, has never been to a android sex-club. The cleanliness is the first thing he notices. Not like he's used to with ~~real people~~ human sex-clubs. He hasn't realized he's stopped in the middle of the joint, until Connor taps his shoulder (Ah!) and points to an "occupied" room, lined with holographic police tape and guarded by a couple of no-names. 

Connor greets them, and is busy introducing himself, and Gavin simply moves past them, the door sliding open as he nears it. 

Gavin's mouth opens in shock. Blue blood is fucking everywhere. 

"Where... Where the fucks the body?" Gavin hears movement and Connor is suddenly right next to him. Gavin can tell he's scanning, it doesn't take much time at all, but there's a split second where it's like his muscles slack. Connor blinks and suddenly he's back to normal. 

"There." He points at what Gavin hadn't realized was a leg, covered in blue. "There." An arm on the sidetable. He keeps going until he finally points to the thirium regulator on the bed and says "and There." His voice doesn't break once.

"Who the fuck does this kinda thing?" Gavin says under his breath. He doesn't mean to, but for a moment he imagines Connor like this, and feels undeserved rage. Connor doesn't notice, or at least doesn't acknowledge him, as he continues with the investigation. After a few seconds, he kneels down, and Gavin simply watches. Connor.

He's, uh. What the fuck is he doing. Connor presses his finger into a puddle of blue blood, before-

"No! Connor!" He feels like he's stopping a dog from eating it's own shit, and grabs Connor's awfully-pretty wrists. "What the absolute _fuck_ are you doing?" 

"Detective... you've just said my name." Gavin's grip goes slack at that and Connor quickly sticks his fingers to his mouth, before smiling around them. "That's progress, Detective." Gavin can't speak, his face is hot so he knows his cheeks are red, ugh.

"Wha-Whatever, get back to the fuckin' investigation, huh, asshole?" Even Gavin knew that was weak. He can't bear to imagine what Connor's thinking. More often than not these days, Gavin wants to crawl in a hole and die. 

"It's a," Connor pauses. "She's a WR-400, not surprising. She's been dead for approximately one and a half hours. She was torn, I mean _torn_ , into thirteen separate pieces and placed into what seems to be non-particular positions. There are no fingerprints, which could point to an android, or a rather meticulous human." Connor looks up to Gavin, and, shocker, his heart stops. "Now, Detective Reed, hear me out. I've worked a case just like this one while the Android Revolution was just starting with Hank, and I think" Oh, he thinks? "that I know just how to solve this. Come with me." He stops just short of grabbing Gavin's hand before they move back into the hallway.

What can Gavin do but fucking follow?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> when gavin has to walk in front of connor....;'-( this is so sad... let's get 1000 likes
> 
> also, why is gavin literally every anime love interest from 2002-now... tsundere lookin ass.
> 
> ALSO... listen. I think we all know gavin's a dramatic gay and listened to lana del rey back in the day... that's just facts.
> 
> (ok i KNOW i hyped up the lick in the tags but u know smtimes.... things change... but u better BET gavin gonna be thinking about it LATER)
> 
> bahaha one and a half doesn't seem very long but it's ok!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which connors all like "gavin, buy me a sexbot" and gavins all like "what the fuck, my good twink"

Connor almost grabs Detective Reed’s hand, but stops because he's unsure if that will set back or progress their _work_ relationship. He only just used his name, and Connor doesn't want to suddenly overstep.

There's an itch in Connor's palm and he's unsure what it means. He's been unsure a lot lately. Something he missed about being a machine was the confidence in his actions, the absolute ease in making decisions for himself. He wouldn't take back his decision for anything. He scrapes his fingernails across his palms, mimicking his usual coin trick, sans coin. He hasn't had much use for it on this case, hasn't had a long enough moment of complex thought to even want to bring it out.

The detective follows behind him closely, and Connor feels the itch again, scratches it, doesn't understand why. He runs a simple diagnostic for his nerves. Nothing. Well, okay, guess there's nothing to be done. It's not inhibiting the investigation anyway.

Connor reaches a Traci (he doesn't know if that's the right thing to call them anymore. he wonders if he should ask. he decides he will.) in a tube across the crime scene. He turns to Gavin.

"Buy this for me, will you?" Connor realizes that maybe that was a bit abrupt.

"Huh?" Detective Reed said "Huh" less like "Huh" and more like "Hyeauh~" and Connor makes a minor effort not to comment on it.

"I mean to say, rent this Traci for a moment so that I can probe her memory and see if the assailant was witnessed." The detective's face is screwed up in a way that requires more than minor effort for Connor to not comment on. "Please."

Reed awkwardly places his hand on the scanner and a female voice comes from the speaker above it.

"Hello. A 30-minute session costs 59.99. Please confirm your purchase." There's a grunt from the detective as he presses some buttons.

"Oh, the pricing has more than doubled since the last time the Lieutenant and I have been here. Sorry, Dete-" He confirms before Connor's finished. "-ctive."

"It's fine. Wait, were you talking about that android and human homicide? Could barely fuckin' remember it. Just remember thinking the guy looked like he died of er... fucking... It happens." Connor doesn't understand why Detective Reed is speaking so quietly. 

"Actually, he murdered the Traci that was already in the room, but there was another Traci in there with them. She was the one who strangled the man." Connor thinks of the Lovers for a moment and he's glad he wasn't machine enough to gun them down. Glad Hank had already changed him enough to let those girls live. Peacefully together. He thinks of Hank like a father-friend-figure and he hopes Hank sees him similarly. Nothing has proven him otherwise. 

Connor realizes that Gavin is looking at him (not looking, staring. Connor is sure it's impolite because he's been called out on it exactly 24 times,) but before he can mention it the Traci, oh, he'd forgotten about her, slips between the two of them and lightly trails her hand down Detective Reed's arm. Connor's palms are itching again, and instead of scratching them, he speaks.

"Hi. I'm Connor, can I probe your memory to aid in a homicide investigation?" He realizes he's speaking unusually fast, but not noticeable to anyone but him, he concludes. 

"Hi." She winks. "I'm Wendy, go ahead." So they do have names they want used. She takes her hand off of the Detective (Connor's hands aren't so itchy anymore) and holds it out to Connor. Their flesh meet and pale.

His eyes close and he's seeing things as a Traci. No. As Wendy.

The inside of the tube. A man. Not important. Not important. Not important. There! A male Traci, blond, brown-eyed, heading to Wendy's left.

He's sucked out of the recording and Wendy simply looks at him and smiles. He returns it, politely. 

"Follow me, Detective." He isn't looking at her, but somehow he knows Wendy's winking.

"Tata~, thanks for buying my next thirty minutes, Mr. Reed, Connor." How does she know his name? Oh. That's embarrassing. He hadn't meant to open the connection both ways. As he was watching through her eyes, she was watching through his. 

"Ok, Pinocchio, where to?" Connor turned his head to look at the detective but continued walking.

"Pinocchio is a children's book-slash-film about a liar and I'm unsure as to how it relates to me, Detective." Connor wasn't offended, he just didn't get it.

"It's cause he's all 'I wanna be a real boy!' and what-fuckin-ever," Ah. Connor can see. Because the deviants wanted to be seen as people. That's... funny, he supposes. 

"Oh, I see." There's a lapse in conversation and Connor spots the same ~~cute~~ \- Oh. He doesn't know what adjective is appropriate. That one seems like something that would offend Detective Reed. Perhaps... ~~adorab~~ \- Okay, moving passed that! Connor spots the same flush as before on the detective's cheeks.

"Okay, this seems like a safe estimate of distance to probe another Traci." Reed winces. "Probe the memory of a Traci, I mean." He adds a wink, for good measure.

"Do you have a preference?" Connor asks the detective in a more goofy voice than usual, taking inspiration from gameshow hosts. This is said as a joke, but he's more curious than he wants to believe. 

The detective is a puzzle, he reminds himself. _The detective is a puzzle._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> listen...... u already know what the fuck going on.
> 
> also the pricing is doubled bc the tracis are getting paid for this. instead of going directly to the shopowners, if u were wondering. u better believe wendy was like "hm...."


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please enjoy, u funky little cowboys

Gavin could scream. 

He doesn't because that would be fucking weird, but he WANTS to. Connor, (Gavin's very definition of "preference") has the fucking gall (oh my god, when he fucking WINKED, Gavin just about DIED) to ask what Gavin's preferences are. Yes, he's aware it's a joke(?) but the irony isn't lost on him.

He wishes (he wishes often, don't he) that he could just be like "Ah, yes, Connor, IN FACT. I'd like to rent _you_ , ohohohohoho." but nope, because 1: he would rather die, and 2: fucking weird. 

He wonders for a moment if androids can be "weird" about sexuality. Like, if he were to point to one of the guy Traci's, would Connor be like "eeeewwww" like his classmates in kindergarten who couldn't make it passed 9th grade without a pregnancy. Oh, but they were so much better than him, because _they_ were getting into heaven. If it's not obvious, he's still hung up on them. He's hung up on a lot of things. The least regretful thing he's hung up on is Connor. And he kinda wishes it would go away, but Gavin wouldn't really say he regrets it, but whatever, enough of that introspective bullshit. Time to go out on a goddamn limb.

"Any of the guys'll be fine, not like we're gonna be usin' 'em anyway." Gavin winks back. _Gavin winks back_. Connor stares at him for a long moment, and Gavin regrets (oh he fucking _regrets_ ) until Connor breaks out into a smile, with teeth. He turns away for Gavin and leads them to another Traci. The process starts again. 

A hundred and twenty bucks... and it's mostly spent on Connor's companionship. 1: This is the most expensive date (that's a LITTLE hyperbolic) that Gavin's ever been on and 2: is Gavin considered a sugar dad? These are obviously jokes, but he thinks for a moment about saying them out loud, just to make Connor smile again. Gavin _knows_ Connor will find it funny, he's got a very particular niche of humor. He's about to hype himself all the way up, but he's saved from the decision when the male Traci steps out of the tube and slings his arm over Gavin's shoulders.

"I- hello-" 

"Hello, Mr. Reed. Let me show you to your room."

The Traci's voice is sultry, sexual, and Gavin tries not to pay much attention to it.

"Hi. I'm Connor. Can I probe your memory to aid in a homicide investigation?" Is it Gavin's imagination or did Connor say that significantly faster than before? The male Traci pulls himself away from Gavin, not rushing, and _definitely_ not forgetting to incorporate a little chest-grope. He holds out an arm to Connor.

"Probe away." And he does. Connor's eyes close and he's doing the face slack-thing again. Gavin can't help but look at the connection between the two androids. Connor's arm, Connor's palm was white like snow and Gavin doesn't think he can romanticize everything about one person but apparently he fucking can. He wishes for a moment that he could connect to Connor like he can with other androids. Daydreams about how, if he could connect, what the feeling would be if Connor was on top of him, their fingers intertwined, pale white, and they'd be _sharing_ what they were feeling. It's a little bit sexy, to be honest, and Gavin's starting to think the Eden Club air is getting to him. 

The probe is finished almost as soon as it started and Connor jerks his head to look at one of the tubes, occupied by a blond Traci. His LED flickers red before steadying on yellow. He grips Gavin's hand and Gavin is given exactly a second to be all cutesy-embarrassed and what-the-fuck-not before Connor whispers that it's him. The droid they were looking for. He would've made a joke if the look on Connor's face wasn't so serious. Connor's voice was low, like they were in danger, and Gavin supposed they were.

"I'll go around the left side of the pole and you go around the right." They split and Gavin wonders for a second when Connor became the boss, before circling around the table. Connor and Gavin stood in front of the tube for a moment before Connor turns to him.

"We need the manager to come open the tube." Ah. Gavin guesses that makes sense. He's sure as fuck not gonna leave Connor alone with him. Fuck it. Gavin pulls his gun and keeps it trained on the android before causing a fucking racket.

"HEY! I NEED THE FUCKIN' MANAGER, ASAP!" The android in the tube jumps at that and starts begging for his life. 

Gavin couldn't care less.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> more like, "Hi, I'm Connor, stop fucking touching my mans."
> 
> so.... crime fucking solved! in the span of Two Whole Minutes (probably more like ten ababhahaha)
> 
> also, i don't know why i'm so hesitant to include smut in this fic, like, it's definitely happening, but i find it so hard to type, mmm he wanna fucking SUCK connor's dick


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> drinking after the solve and android alcohol (not an original idea, and i thank whichever user came up with that shit first, bc u r an ICON)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> slow burn, my ass.

They are back in the car again and suddenly, Connor can't think of anything to say. The static is back but... there's less. Connor's glad it's a little less awkward than before.

Before. He wonders if the Detective is thinking about his question. Connor's still curious and no matter how patient he tries to be, the reaction from before only made his curiousity more ferocious. He decides to try to change his mind's subject for something more neutral.

"Detective Reed, about before-" he's interrupted before he can say, "Thank you for trusting me."

"My mom. She- uh." The detective is breathing through his nose and out his mouth, it's methodical, not on instinct. 

"Would you like to have a few drinks before you attempt this subject?" Connor knows he should give the detective a way out. He should say something like 'Or perhaps, not speak about it at all?' but he doesn't. He doesn't want to. He wants to know why Gavin (he knows shouldn't call him that) is so ~~embarrassed/ashamed/scared/~~ uncomfortable about this particular discussion.

 ~~Gavin~~ The detective makes a sort of confused noise at the back of his throat before nodding, switching on his blinker, and making his way towards the nearest liquor store.

~~~

Connor decides not to ask why they're headed to a liquor store instead of a bar. The outcome surprises him. He'd thought Detective Reed to be the "bar type."

The detective opens the door before leaning back in for a second. "Stay here, I'll be back." He straightens before leaning back down and tacking on a "Dipshit." Connor smiles at the insult, it's so badly executed.

Detective Reed takes approximately seven minutes to grab what he needs and come back out, he has two bags of alcohol, more than one person could drink in a night. Connor assumed he would only need three minutes, but he understands that perhaps the detective was venturing out.

The detective takes a seat and hands over his adult-groceries wordlessly, before pausing with his hand on the stick-shift.

"I-uh... I guess we're going to my house then?" His voice cracks just barely on 'my house.'

"I would hope so, as I currently live with the Lieutenant and I'm unsure if you'd like him eavesdropping on this conversation."

"Wha- you _live_ with Hank?!" Is it so shocking that Connor doesn't want to live in a government-issued box?

"Well, yes, I'm unsure if he would like me saying so, but he's very much like a father to me." He hadn't meant to say that, it barely related to the conversation, but for whatever reason, he wanted it out.

"Oh, well, uh, that's kinda nice, huh?" Connor smiles, involuntarily, and thinks that maybe that's why he said it.

"Hey, uh, have a look in there," he takes his hand off the stick-shift a second to gesture towards the bags of alcohol.

"Why?"

"Quit questioning, Pinocchio, just look." Connor is surprised the detective recovered from what would usually be a severe blow to his ego enough to call him 'Pinocchio' a second time.

Connor opens a bag to find white wine. This is not a surprise, well, it is, but why did Reed ask him to look at this?

"Oh, no that one, the other one, then."

Connor opens the second bag, this one a blue liquid tackily packaged, and aptly named "Cyber-DRANK." Connor's chest felt light. Excitement.

"It's fuckin' robo-alcohol!!! I was just looking for my moscato and this" he gestures to it. "fuckin' thing jumped out at me. It's for _you_ , dipshit."

"I've never been drunk before. Should I even attempt inebriation knowing we both have work tomorrow morning?" Connor actually really wants to get drunk. Another thing he hasn't thought to try, but has heard a million and a half things about. He's hoping Gavin will talk him into it even more. 

"Fuck yeah, not like Hank doesn't ever come in at noon." Not an amazing convincing, but it's enough. He pulls in to an apartment parking lot. "Alright, we're here."

There's a particular look on the Detective's face that Connor can't quite place. It's a mixture of things, but at the forefront of them, it's anticipation and anxiety. Connor wonders if Reed has ever told anyone about his scar.

Connor wonders if he's the _first._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i thought for a long minute, i was like HM. would gavin prefer to drink in a bar, for the lack of intimacy, or in his house, for ALL the intimacy. and I decided.... oh yeah baby... that's what i'm talmbout
> 
> u know, i imagine gavin would drive a manual, like He's That Vers. and i know this is the future, but im sure there's still some sticks floating around
> 
> also, why did it take two minutes for me to make gavin a Big ol Softy, the man goes from not talking to him bc his feelings Too Strong, to buying him Robo-Drank, my king, idk if im moving him too fast or not, i jus know i'm love him.
> 
> ALSO im finally taking a fucking break, i gotta sleep, and i got work tomorrow so I'll probably upload some more Later :-)


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> oh shit!!! bitches is tipsy!
> 
> also, i'm self-indulgent and they _will_ be a lottle sexiness in this drinking game.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks so much for the comments and kudos!!!! it rlly makes me jump to write more!! 
> 
> hope y'all enjoy, i just woke up and wrote this so I hope it doesn't read weird.
> 
> also, hope y'all are aware how much gavin wants to smash bc-

Gavin is... stupid. This isn't news to anyone, least of all him.

Why in the goddamn shitting _fuck_ did he invite the actual Object of His Damn Affections for drinks, (which make people make stupid decisions (that's literally the appeal (it's on the fucking bottle))) in his Own Damn Home, (where he sleeps and eats and where he ~~masturbates to Connor~~ does _other_ things!) like some kinda dumbass who isn't aware of social cues when he _so clearly is_?

Gavin is aware that the answer is because he _is_ "some kinda dumbass." 

He and Connor are in his living room (the loveseat, the loveseat, the loveseat) and Connor sets the drinks carefully on the coffee table.

"Okay, Detective Reed, how does one start a "drinking party" like this?"

"Well," Gavin knows he's gotta drop an insult or he'll lose cred, "dipshit, first off, we don't ask dumb questions like that," he plops down in the loveseat (the loveseat, the loveseat) and pops open the wine. "second off, my cups are in the cupboard next to the fridge. Grab 'em and lets get started." Gavin is aware (and shocked) that he sounds so sure of himself. He is not. He turns on the tv, the remote almost shaking in his hand. He wishes he could ask someone for help, but his only friend is Chris and that son of a bitch is sick. The fuckin' betrayal.

 _Hey, Siri,_ "how to not make shit awkward when you're in the room alone with the love of your life"

_Hi, Gavin, I couldn't find an answer to that, but here are a few links that might help!_

Gavin decides Siri can eat his ass, and puts away his phone, before remembering that Connor wasn't here just to drink. Connor came to listen to him talk about his mom and-

Connor is still in the kitchen, taking his sweet time with finding the glasses and Gavin is glad (but overwhelmed) that he only has a few seconds to figure out how he's gonna talk about this shit.

He's still running over starting lines when Connor comes back with two mugs that are shaped like dog faces and sets them on the table. The thought of there being a possible reason for Connor choosing these cups specifically makes Gavin warm with a particular kind of curiosity.

"Why'd you choose _those_ cups, plastic?" Connor looks back at them.

"Ah. Well. It took me a moment to choose my favorites. I'm not used to having preferences, so I ran a few simulations to determine which one I would 'feel' less happy to not be drinking from and the result is the St. Bernard and the Corgi coming out on top." That's the dumbest, most needless, way to say Connor just picked what he wanted. He sits at the end of the couch nearest Gavin, and Gavin's not drunk yet, but he's already feeling tipsy on _air._ He grabs the, er, what was it? Cyber-DRANK, and watches Connor's face as he starts to pour the blue liquid into the Corgi mug.

Connor's lips thin. Gavin moves the bottle to the St. Bernard. Connor's lips are kissable (well, Gavin's lying if he's saying they weren't kissable before) again. Gavin lets out a snort before letting the contents go into the St. Bernard mug. Connor goes to drink it before he looks like his been struck by lightning, his lips quirk up.

"I have an idea, Detective!" Connor waits for Gavin to give him some signal to continue, so he nods while taking a sip. "Let's play those drinking games the Lieutenant loves! I would love to try them." Gavin almost sprays.

"Well, uh, I'm gonna need something stronger," He kinda fidgets with the cup. "You don't really play drinking games with wine, Con-" oh Hell No, "nerd. Connerd." oh god, that shit was weak, that shit was SO weak. Connor simply smiles.

"Actually, according to a search, there are several games to play with wi-" Gavin is 1: not letting Connor down and 2: going to need something stronger to play these kinds of games (psychologically), he just wasn't, er, wanting to be ridiculous-drunk in front Connor.

"It's ok, I'll be right back." He slips in his kitchen, and grabs a bottle of whiskey from under his sink.

"Detective, why buy wine when you already have whiskey?" Textbook confusion was shown on Connor's fuckin-exquisite features.

"Er, I just didn't want to get too drunk tonight." This is half the truth, the whole truth is, Gavin drinks wine all the time, but _wasn't_ gonna go ham tonight, also, the whiskey is Chris's, for drinking games like these (except those are maybe a million times less nerve-wracking.)

He throws back the moscato before pouring in the whiskey with a grimace. Gavin isn't a fan of whiskey, it hurts his (poor, widdle) throat.

"Alright, what're we playing, then?"

"Ah. To be frank, I know what we can play, I'm just unsure what we _should_ play,"

"Why don't you just run a wheel-of-fortune type thing, a randomizer, and we just play whatever-the-fuck comes up?" Connor nods, and Gavin's glad the decision is out of his hands.

"Alright, Detective, running a randomizer program... now." Gavin hopes it's something sexy, but also... doesn't. 

"The winner is Truth, or Drink." Where's the dare, Gavin wonders. 

_Where the fuck is the Dare?_

"You start, Detective." Huh? He's already a little tipsy from the mug of wine. He knows he's a bit of a lightweight but it somehow always manages to surprise him.

"I-uhhhhhh... I guess, uh, what's your favorite song?" Uhhhhhh, shit, Gavin sucks at this kinda thing. Connor looks at him for a moment.

"I suppose perhaps I should go ahead and drink this glass if I _want_ to be drunk by the end of the night, huh, Detective?" Connor thinks himself a wise guy, eh? Gavin can feel his face heat.

"F-fuck off, I'm not good at making up questions like this," Connor chugs the Cyber-DRANK before going blue and spraying a little out of his mouth. This is probably the least dignified shit Gavin has ever seen from the android, besides licking up shit from the floor. 

"Blegh..." Gavin bursts out a laugh, as Connor wipes his mouth with the back of his beautiful hand. "ugh, Okay,” he shakes his head, a bit like a wet dog. “my turn then, Detective Reed. Tell me about the time you lost your virginity." Huh? _Foul play! That's not even a question!_ “Oh. Sorry, when did you lose your virginity, Detective?" _Did he say that out loud?_ "Yes." _Huh._

"Well, uh, fucking junior year, I guess. I was 17." There's a look on Connor's face. Something like fascination, but there's no fucking way.

"To a man or a woman?" Gavin's breath caught in his throat. If his cheeks could get redder.

"I- you can't ask more than one question per turn, alright, dipshit?" He took a swig of the whiskey and felt his nose scrunch. "Er, also, I'm gonna drink outside of the game." He raises the Corgi mug.

"But wouldn't that make the game pointless, in a way, Detective?" Ugh, Connor looks so cute when he's confused. "What was that, Detective?" Did he say that out loud?

"Uh, I said, nah, because we're still asking questions, and we still have to drink if we don't answer." _And I need a drink _now_ or else I'm gonna fucking combust._ "So the stakes aren't lost, I guess."

Connor nods like that makes sense. Gavin knows it doesn't. 

The longer he looks at Connor like this, the more in love he feels. His eyes are brighter, his cheeks redder, his lips more kissable than usual, and Gavin just wants to pull him into the loveseat (the loveseat, _the loveseat_ ) with him and eat him whole.

"Uh... Connor." He distantly feels his fingers fidget around the mug. "Did Cyberlife... equip you with" _fuck_ "er,... heavy machinery?"

"Heavy machinery refers to cars-" Connor's eyes widen for a moment. "Oh, you mean to ask if I have a peni-"

"Yes! Yeah, that's what I'm asking, please don't say more." Please do say more. Oh god, say more.

"Ah... yes, I'm fully operational, but my primary task is detective work." Gavin tunes out and _imagines_ for a moment before bringing himself back to the present. He grips the Corgi mug in his hand a little tighter before taking another swig.

"Alright, your turn, Connor."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'd like to think iphones exist and that siri, despite the fact that androids exist, is still super shitty and almost useless.
> 
> "looks like he's been struck by lightning" well is the bitch ok!!!!
> 
> also, have y'all ever been drunk with someone u love!!!! it's the worst, u literally sit there the whole time thinking, iloveyouiloveyou, but also, icantsayiloveyouicantsayiloveyou.
> 
> will probably update around 12ish after i get off of work! :-)


	8. the boy's equipped!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh shit!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, I’m self-indulgent as fuck so UHHH... 
> 
> sorry this chapter's so little, I’m uploading this at work ;-))

“To a man or a woman?” Well, that's interesting.

Connor hadn’t meant to say that. He really didn’t, it just slips out of its own accord. The way Gavin’s mouth opens at the question is making Connor feel _something_ , though he’s not entirely sure what.

“I-“ He likes the way the detective often starts his sentences with ‘I’ before backtracking. “You can’t ask more than one question per turn, alright,” Connor can feel an insult coming, but now it feels like when Hank calls him ‘son.’ It lifts his chest in a peculiar way. “Dipshit.”

Connor smiles slightly at the way Gavin throws back the Corgi mug of whiskey. “Also, I’m gonna drink outside of the game.”

He was feeling... funny... isn’t the right word. Odd. Off-kilter. His hands feel far away and it almost feels as though he’s watching a movie, instead of looking through his own eyes.

“But wouldn’t that make the game pointless, in a way, Detective?” Saying detective is so time-consuming. So many syllables when he could just say _Gavin_. The detective says something under his breath, but the Cyber-DRANK appears to have displaced his audio processing. “What?”

“Uh, I said, nah, because we're still asking questions, and we still have to drink if we don't answer. So the stakes aren't lost, I guess."

Connor nods at this, but can’t stop looking at the St. Bernard mug in his hands. Looks like Sumo, but small. Connor wonders if this would be weird to say at loud. 

"Uh... Connor.” Gavin’s saying his name again. Connor feels warmth creep up his spine at the knowledge. “Did Cyberlife... equip you with...” Every word seems like a physical effort from Gavin. “er,... heavy machinery?"

“Heavy machinery refers to cars-“ Oh. He’s asking if Connor have a penis. “Oh, you mean to ask if I have a peni-“ Gavin cuts him off and Connor has to force himself not to grin.

“Yes! Yeah, that’s what I’m asking, please don’t say more.” Connor wants to say more. He wants to make Gavin explode, not like he used to, but how he does now. Connor thinks that before, Gavin was red, and angry. But somehow, now he’s pink, and Connor prefers it this way.

“Ah. Yes. I’m fully operational, but my primary task is detective work.” The detective looks like he’s thinking deeply for a moment, before snapping back.

“Your turn, Connor.” Yes. His turn. What should he ask? Should he go back to the question before? Or get to the heart of why they came to Gavin’s in the first place? Connor decides he’ll save that one for last and keep up the light-hearted embarrassing questions.

Being drunk feels nice. It feels like nothing matters, but in a good way.

“Detective-” that’s starting to get very boring to say. So long. A whole syllable more. “ _Who_ did you lose your virginity to?” For whatever reason, the Cyber-DRANK has made Connor incline towards devious actions. 

“Jesus, do all your goddamn questions gotta be so... sexual?”

“I am simply using the most commonly-asked” _and most amusing_ “questions used in games like these. Statistically, questions that involve sex are well-received by the askee.” Also, Connor was enjoying how Gavin blushed and squirmed under scrutiny. It’s cute. Hm... Connor shouldn’t be thinking that, probably.

“Fffffuck, ok, uh, it was... prom night. And I. Fuck. This isn’t a great story, Connor.” 

“Well, unless you want to drink-“ Gavin interrupts him before he can finish.

“I’ll be doing both, thanks.” He takes a long swig and shakes his head as soon as it goes down. “It was prom night, and I, haaaaah, alright, so I fucked the football captain and- actually, nah, that’s enough. I just fucked the football captain, there’s your answer, Connor.” Connor smiled, pleased at Gavin’s truth.

“Alright, your turn, Gavin.”

_Oops._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have y’all seen that vine where there a guy with a backwards hat and he’s like “hey bitch” and then he acts like he’s a girl and he’s like “oh stop.. ;-)” and then he goes “hehe, Bitch :-P” bc I feel like That Vine is This fic, but I honestly don’t know who’s who
> 
> HAHDJSHshdhs it’s this!!! But I don’t know how to add a fuckin link!  
> https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=SSrwanD_rps
> 
> ALSO!!!! I’m not sure if I’m moving these boys too fast, if u were like “blegh” at any  
> Point, then I have Failed


	9. i love you dearly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh, they! did! that!

"-Gavin." Gavin? _Gavin?_ Not "Detective Reed," not "Detective," just Gavin. If Gavin wasn't tipsy from the whiskey, he was definitely drunk on Connor's words.

He might die if he keeps up this not-breathing bullshit. Should he mention it? Would Connor want him to? He speaks the words before he has enough time to swallow them.

"'Gavin', huh," Fuck, he can already tell his tone is all wrong. "What, 're we friends now?" Gavin's eye are locked with Connor's and he sees something shift within them. Where is the nearest noose? Could he not have just fucking said ' _Connor, I love you dearly, I see the stars in your eyes, and the moment you spoke my given name, I possibly saw God.'_ Wait, actually, why _does_ he always _stop_ after he says aggressive shit he really doesn't mean? He could super-fucking-easily just start over. Fuck it, he's going to. 

"Fuck, sorry" Gavin feels like he hasn't said sorry in a century, almost tastes like dust when he says it. "I mean, Connor," He says his name with such weight, such care, and he wonders if Connor can even notice shit like that. "Are we ok now?" Connor's eyes crinkle and Gavin wishes he could screenshot his memories like (he assumes) Connor can. His perfectly-crafted hands around Gavin's mug. sitting on Gavin's couch, smiling at _Gavin_ Oh, he wants to kiss him so bad. He feels like a guitar string, buzzing with the energy Connor constantly strums into him, and this (thiiiiis) close to snapping. He wants to kiss him. He wants to kiss him. Oh my fucking God, he wants to ki-.

"I think I want to kiss you." Huh? Gavin's sucked out of his thirst-vortex and he knows his eyes are wide as all hell. He’s frozen, and on fire at the same time. If Connor said _this_ to him, sober, Gavin wouldn't be able to keep his face a separate entity from his thoughts. Now that he's drunk, he's positive he's easier than a book to read. Connor isn't laying against the back of the couch like before, his body is pressed against the arm of the couch now, leaning towards Gavin. The previous mischievousness is gone from his eyes, replaced by worry. His LED is shifting between sunflower yellow and sky blue and Gavin can’t help but stare at the visible tug-of-War between calm and confusion. "But I'm unsure." Connor's unsure? Gavin is the very fucking definition of "Unsure." He doesn't know what the fuck Connor's trying to do. (obviously kiss him, but what does it _mean_?) He's too caught up in his own crisis to realize Connor's still talking.

"-don't have to if you don't want to, I'm sorry I asked. I'm sure I've made you uncomfortable, Ga- Detective." Connor's backtracking. Gavin doesn't want Connor to backtrack. Gavin would rather die than let him retreat further.

"No! I mean, it's okay-" Uhhhhhhhhh, what's he supposed to say here? 'We can kiss?' or 'why are you unsure?' Both? Both is good. "We can," He can't say kiss. "-but the fuck do you mean by 'unsure?'" Connor's eyes are everywhere but Gavin, and his jaw sets before he speaks, and Gavin wonders when exactly Connor got so... human.

"I... don't want to answer that question, actually. I change my mind, deviants often do unpredictable things like that, and if memory serves, I'm a deviant."

"Yeah, dumbass, humans do unpredictable things all the time too, doesn't mean they suddenly can't answer basic fuckin' questions." Gavin's eyes settle on the St. Bernard mug, gripped tightly. "Either answer the question or drink, it's still my turn. If memory serves." Oh, that was so fucking witty. Hell yeah.

"I will... do both, thank you." Gavin smiles at the callback. Connor puts the cup to his lips and takes a hearty sip before setting it back down. He's looking at his lap. "I think I've never felt this particular emotion before. It's... itchy. There's no proof, but I feel like... kissing you will remedy this feeling." He looks up at Gavin and it strikes an arrow straight through him. So, Connor is... er, horny for kissing? Maybe saying he just really wants to kiss is a significantly better way to put that, but Gavin's point still stands.

 _But, does it matter with who?_ Gavin's too busy thinking about this (he often is) to notice Connor's moved to sit next to him (on him, this loveseat is too small to seat two grown men side-by-side) and everything's happening at once and Gavin doesn't have control.

Their lips touch and Gavin sees drunken stars.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don't realize how bad i am at slow burns until i realize it's dead-ass been less than a day... cool it, u two.
> 
> also... bahahahaa at gavin thinking that he isn't easy to read anyways!!
> 
> Also..... I just fuckin realized that I have not mentioned Connor’s LED almost this whole time like some sorta fucking buffoon, I’m Boutta edit some mentions in here, u better BET
> 
> i think after i finish this story i might redo it and make it less speedy-fast, also... was thinking about writing a sports/modern setting au, but we'll see


	10. i think i wanna kiss u.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WOOOOH!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope y'all likey

Every word Connor thinks feels like... every time he's tried to give Sumo a bath without Hank's help. 

It's like he can't keep "Sumo" (in this analogy, his thoughts) still, his hand are "too slippery" (he's too drunk) to "hold the St. Bernard down" (not say every word he's thinking) and maybe, if he had "closed the bathroom door" (not drank any Cyber-DRANK) perhaps the mess would have stayed in the bathroom. Connor realizes he's not very good at analogies but this one makes the most sense right now.

The itch has come back into his hands, and as he observes Gavin for much longer than necessary, the itch spreads to his lips. He's been thinking about the implications when he hears the Detective use a particular tone that Connor wasn't sure he liked. He's only heard the end of it, but his breath catches for a second before the Detective’s already started saying sorry. If Connor were to make a guess, he'd say Gavin's never said sorry in his life.

"Are we ok now?" Connor thinks Gavin is asking if they're friends, and honestly, he thinks that's a _completely reasonable_ amount of cute.

Connor can feel his face lift, his field of vision growing slightly smaller, but he's unsure as to why he's smiling exactly, why he's feeling so... light. The feeling doesn't last long (it echoes) before he is made heavy thinking about Gavin again. Connor's eyes are trained on the scar for a moment (they still haven’t talked about that), before moving to his eyes (a rather attractive shade of blueish grey.) . His perpetual five-o-clock shadow (Connor wants to run his fingers over it.) and then, the detective's lips. _His_ lips are _on fire._ Connor wants to touch his face, he wants to- Oh. The words are out of his mouth the moment he thinks them.

 _"I think I want to kiss you."_ His thoughts turned to words and they ran right out of the bathroom when given an opportunity. _Why did he say that?_ Well, that's actually an easy question for Connor to answer. He wants to kiss Gavin. But the look on Gavin's face makes him freeze, makes him wonder if there's some way to rewind time. He tacks on an "But I'm unsure." Connor _is_ sure about wanting to kiss him. He's just unsure about how Gavin feels and that... scares him, even though he isn't in any mortal danger. 

Gavin hasn't moved and Connor can feel himself start to ramble.

"That was... an inappropriate thing to ask of you, you don't have to if you don't want to, I'm sorry I asked. I'm sure I've made you uncomfortable, Ga-" He wants to say Gavin. No, he shouldn't. "Detective." It feels hollow to call him 'Detective.'

"No!" Gavin seems frantic, this surprises Connor. "I mean, it's okay- uh. We can?" This sounds like a question. "But the fuck do you mean, 'unsure?'" Connor feels panic seize his throat again.

"I..." Connor doesn't want to answer, if he were being honest. "-don't want to answer that question, actually. I change my mind, deviants often do unpredictable things like that, and if memory serves, I'm a deviant." That didn't sound very convincing, or true, and it doesn’t stop Gavin from asking again.

"Yeah, dumbass, humans do unpredictable things all the time too, doesn't mean they suddenly can't answer basic fuckin' questions." Connor watches Gavin's eyes drift to his mug of Cyber-DRANK and feels the dread of knowing he'll have to find some way to answer this inconvenient question. "Either answer the question or drink, it's still my turn. If memory serves." Shit. Gavin did have him there.

"I will..." Connor remembers what Gavin had said before he answered Connor's uncomfortable-making questions from before. "-do both, thank you." Connor drinks and it's the worst thing he's ever tasted (coming from the guy who's had a homeless man's semen in his mouth _at least_ once), but he tries not to flinch. Okay, he can answer, but he doesn't look at Gavin when he does. "I think... I've never felt this particular emotion before. It's..." He doesn't know how else to say it. "itchy. There's no proof, but I feel like... kissing you will remedy this feeling." He needs to know what Gavin's thinking. He needs to know what face he's making. Gavin's face softens the moment their eyes meet and Connor feels like metal pulled to a magnet.

He wants to kiss him. He wants to try. He's going to. 

He tries to stop the incessant thud of thirium, as he- he _was_ going to sit _next_ to the detective but he didn't calculate how small the loveseat would be -sits on top of Gavin in an asymmetrical straddle, one leg outside of Gavin's and one between them. Connor can feel thirium filling his cheeks and the places where their limbs touch (feels like everywhere) are hot. Connor doesn't know how to kiss. Connor doesn't _know_ how to _kiss_.

He moves closer and he can see every pore in Gavin's face and it's so... Connor can't place it. Exhilarating, maybe? Their lips touch and Gavin seems to freeze (his lips are so soft and his scruff is so scratchy) and Connor doesn't know what to do next and- Gavin pulls away slightly and Connor's heart is six-feet-under. That's it?

"Close your fuckin’ eyes, dork." Gavin covers Connor's eyes with his palm before moving back in and resting that same hand on Connor's. "That's rule number one."

They kiss again and this time it's electric. Gavin's hand comes up the side of Connor's face and he doesn't mean to, but a sound escapes him, like a breath, but _more_ and he's instantly embarrassed. That's not going to happen again. He feels Gavin tense for a second, before his mouth starts moving again. His eyes are closed, like Gavin wants (a silent promise), but he wants to see what's happening so bad. He wants to but he won't. It's rule number one of kissing and he doesn't want to fail. He decides to use his hands to see instead.

He touches Gavin's chest experimentally with both hands, sliding up, and he can feel Gavin's stubble catch his fingertips and the feeling wasn't at all what he imagined it woul- Gavin interrupts Connor's thought process to groan a little against his mouth and Connor understands why Gavin went so stick-straight earlier. Hearing him make a noise... _like that_ , made him feel... icy-hot. He's never felt anything like this before.

Connor feels like he needs to change positions a little. He wants more access, less awkward limb-tangling, more _symmetry_. He wants to be _closer._ He pulls away from kissing just long enough to pull the leg that's between Gavin's knees over to the outside. There. Closer. Gavin's hands settle on his hips and Connor makes the Sound again, opens his mouth, and it's like Gavin's been waiting for the opportunity. His tongue darts in and Connor almost gasps. It's more... wet like this and better in every way. With every movement, it feels like the breath is being sucked out of him, and _he_ doesn't even require oxygen.

He wonders how Gavin's even _breathing._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y'all finna SEE how the bitch breathin
> 
> *points at Connor when he swears ONCE* is this allowed? hey, is this ALLOWED?
> 
> i hope y'all enjoy the kissie. mwah, bc i feel like i kinda suck at sexy times
> 
> also... gavin's daydream rlly coming tru 
> 
> damn... im rlly makin y'all sweat by stopping in the middle huh...


	11. no ralphing in the hallway!

Gavin is overwhelmed by Connor.

Gavin isn't a virgin, by any definition of the word. He's been fucking since high school and hasn't stopped (but not since he fell in Like with Connor), yet no experienced one-night stand could even remotely fucking compare to the absolutely-terrible makeout he's getting from Connor. The way he moaned, soft and breathy, when Gavin brought his hand to his face (the way he just-barely leaned into Gavin's palm). The way Connor's beautiful, stunning, perfect (he can't help but shower them with compliments) hands slipped up Gavin's chest and sent shocks through him, straight to his goddamn dick. The way his fingers oh-so-lightly stroked the scruff of Gavin's neck and lingered there before settling on his shoulders feels like _everything_ , all at once. He can't help but groan. Everything Connor does, despite the amateurism, manages to be completely _overwhelming_ to Gavin.

Suddenly, Connor goes from kinda-straddling Gavin to a Straddle (trademarked), and Gavin fucking _prays_ Connor's knee doesn't _happen_ to graze Gavin's dick, because he's hard as a fucking rock just from this chaste-ass kissing. Just as suddenly, Connor's kissing him again, and _god_ , his lips are so soft, so unbelievably soft, and Gavin feels like he's drowning in them, in this feeling. His hands find purchase in Connor's hips and he presses his fingertips into them, and Gavin wishes they weren't wearing so many fucking clothes. Connor moans again, sounding just as breathless as Gavin feels and it's like Gavin can see the surface. Oh, he wants to take this further. Deeper.

He plunges his tongue into Connor's mouth and everything's different but still so _much_. Connor's grip on Gavin's shoulders tighten and it spurs him on. He slips one of his hands into Connor's (softer than he imagined) hair and it feels like they can't be close enough. Connor tries to reciprocate the french kiss (it's terrible and beautiful and Gavin loves every attempt) his tongue licking at Gavin's lips just barely, and it's a little bit wrong, but every bit fucking right. 

Connor's hands drift back to Gavin's chest and his mouth abruptly stops moving, he pulls back. His LED flickers between yellow and blue before sticking to yellow.

"I'm sorry- I'm actually feeling a bit sick." Fuck.

"It's, uh, it's okay," and it really is, Gavin understands, it just fucking sucks. "my bathroom's just over-" He starts to point down a hallway before Connor hiccups. "Actually, no, I'll come with you." Connor doesn't move to get off of Gavin. "Er, Connor, you have to get up." A look crosses Connor's face and Gavin is 100% fucking positive Connor's about to throw up.

"No!" Gavin slides both of his hands under Connor before jumping up with him in his arms. Ugh. It's a lot fucking harder than it sounds. Gavin ain't as spry as he used to be. "Connor! Connor?" Connor makes a kinda "urp" noise and Gavin's fucking _trying_ to get to his bathroom before Connor ralphs on his nice, new carpet. "Please cover your fuckin' mouth-! I'm serious!" Connor doesn't say a goddamn word, just groans and presses his face into Gavin's trusty-old-jacket, which he's had since forever. May it Rest In Peace. Gavin steps foot into the bathroom, and instantly feels warmth pour onto his neck and drip down his back. 

At least it's not on the fucking carpet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh, baited u, did i? ;-)
> 
> also, i've been so caught up with this lately that i didn't see that there was another fic for connor/gavin!!!! sweet tooth is so good, i'm heart eyes for these boys!! :-))))
> 
> ALSO, ashdfkjkahs i was on the gavin/connor tag on tumblr and there was a post that was like "me: i want more dbh fics, ao3: *sudden flux of gavin/connor fic, me: i don't want these" and I died, shfkfskd, sorry for postin so damn much that u think there's more than 2 new fics up bahahaha :-)


	12. vomit scent. tee em.

Connor's feeling wonderful, perfect, being with Gavin like _this_ (their tongues in eachother's mouths) but then his head is swimming. His throat feels thick, and his stomach is cramping.

He doesn't need the diagnostic that pops into his vision to know he's about 30 seconds from vomiting up the Cyber-DRANK, but it comes up anyway. He needs to tell Gavin now, but he's sure if he speaks, the number will go down exponentially. He needs to be concise, and then he needs to find Gavin's bathroom. No. He can't do this. Connor's mind-palace is disabled, despite his new-found sick sobriety. He won't have enough time. What comes out of his mouth is, "I'm sorry- I'm actually feeling a bit sick." and it disappoints Connor how not-concise he manages to be when put under pressure.

The detective is being nice, Connor can see it in the way Gavin's kinda patting his forearm and pointing toward a hallway behind him, but Connor can't focus on anything but imminent doom. He just won't move. He knows he needs to move, but it feels like the second he stops concentrating on not vomiting, it's going to happen. Connor distantly feels the hand on his shoulder squeeze. Gavin's asking him something, but he probably shouldn't speak.

Suddenly, he's higher up, and the too-quick motion makes him hiccup uncomfortably. This drastically reduces his time before expulsion. "-ease cover your fuckin' mouth, I'm _serious_!" Gavin sounds a little hysterical and if Connor wasn't feeling quite _so_ bad, he probably would've found this more funny. (3) All he can do is press his face into Gavin's jacket, (2) and he realizes breathing deeply temporarily (very temporarily) pushes back the nausea. He breathes in the smell (2 and a half) of leather and _Gavin_ and it's nice for a split-second before (1) the sick-ness peaks and he feels liquid go the very-opposite way it should, against gravity, out of his mouth, (0) and all over the back of Gavin's neck.

Instant relief. Gavin is silent for a while before he sighs. Connor can hear Gavin's heart pound like this, hears the air pass through his lungs. "Ya didn't cover your fuckin' mouth, dumbass." 

Connor groans a little before it turns into words. "Mmmmm' sorry, Detective..."

"I... it's fine. It's not _that_ bad. I was expecting it to smell more nasty." Connor wants to explain that it's because he only had the android alcohol and androids don't have stomach acid anyway, so there's nothing in him to create the trademark "Vomit Scent", but he doesn't have it in him. They're still barely in the bathroom. "Uh, can you stand up?" Connor can, he'll be shaky, but he can. He simply doesn't want to.

"No." Gavin sighs again before walking a few more steps and plopping them both on the toilet seat.

"Ok, but you're fuckin' heavy, and I'm not some damn teenager." Gavin had a hand on his back, and after a few moments he was drawing soothing circles, his other in Connor's hair, mindlessly petting (not consistently; at this, Connor realizes Gavin can't do two different things with his hands at the same time.) Connor felt warm like this, taken care of. Gavin probably wasn't gonna kiss him again tonight, and Connor was ok with that, as long as it _did_ happen again. What else to talk about?

"Ah, Detective, it's still my turn." Gavin groans and Connor can feel the vibrations through his ear. 

"... We're not drinking anymore." Gavin's taken on a rather-misplaced scolding tone, and Connor smiles. "So, there's no fuckin' stakes, just ask the damn question."

"Tell me about your scar." Gavin goes silent and Connor wonders momentarily if he's gone too far. After all that, this might be that last straw. He feels Gavin's heart beat a little faster, both his hands freezing.

"... It's not a fun story, Connor."


	13. she didn't stop him.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> alright, homophobic slurs are directly mentioned, only once, but the topic occurs throughout.
> 
> shit's heavy son!

Gavin's fingers still in Connor's hair. He'd forgotten about _that._ That was the purpose of this whole fucking thing, wasn't it.

"... It's not a fun story, Connor." Everything feels so heavy. Like there's weights attached to every bit of him. 

"That's fine." That eases the weight a little. He's been given all this time (all this awfully-fuckin-coincidental stalling), and he still doesn't know where to start.

"My mom." He can hear himself swallow. "She was wonderful, when I was a kid." When he was a kid, it was easy. She didn't know then. She didn't know then. _She didn't know then_. "We were close, up until high school, we were so close." In a voice barely louder than breath, "She loved me then." He's so glad Connor's turned away. He isn't sure what he looks like, doesn't like how talking about this makes him feel like glass. He wants to talk about this more nonchalantly. Lose the fucking drama. It's just something that happened a long time ago, he shouldn't care anymore, he shouldn't fucking _care_ anymore.

But he cares so much. It was so long ago, but it was _still fucking here._

"I got caught with the captain of the football team, same one from before." That sounds so fucking trivial. Gavin can't even remember his name. He was so young, a whole different person. Carefree. No. Care _less_. "Not the same night, we were in his bed and his dad- he wasn't fine with it." His heart's beating so hard, his breaths shudder. Keep going. There's more.

Connor wraps his hand around Gavin's forearm and squeezes. Gavin finally breathes, moving his hand in Connor's hair again. His hair (so soft, so straight, with the littlest bit of curl) is so soothing to pet.

"He told my mom." He remembers this part well. The way she looked when Gavin and The Boy were at her door, dragged by their ears, by his Father. It was simple, innocent confusion. The way she looked when the Father told her what he caught her _fag son doing to his darling boy_. Disgust. It was disgust. Not hatred, no. She didn't hate him. She swore she didn't hate him after she let her husband break his fucking nose. Why does it matter so much? "She wasn't mad at me. She'd never given me any reason to expect her to be, but-

"She told my step-dad, -while they were in bed or something, I don't have a fucking clue- but he knew the next morning, and" He wouldn't stop. She wouldn't stop him, he just kept hitting and hitting and she wouldn't _fucking_ stop him, and suddenly Gavin couldn't see and. Betrayal. Heartbreak. Both red-hot and metal, on his tongue, spilling out of his nose like a faucet. "He beat me up." 

"She didn't stop him." _Why didn't she stop him?_ It didn't matter. Doesn't matter. "Doesn't matter now. Everythin' else healed up, but my nose." He wants to feel it. The difference in texture. The divide between what should and shouldn't have happened. "It was almost two fucking decades ago. Ain't seen her since."

He's run out of breath.

Connor's quiet like the dead, and it fills Gavin with anxiety. Was that too much? Too personal? No. _He asked for it._ If he didn't fucking think his _pain_ was interesting enou-

"Thank you for telling me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> have y'all ever told someone something so deep and personal and frightening, only to be met with nothing in return? it's truly some of the most traumatizing shit!!! would not recommend! glad that didn't happen to our boy!
> 
> hope y'all enjoy a lil angst, gn!! ♥
> 
> gavin is a 2002 baby, so this happened in 2019-2020. jus a fact


	14. thank you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry, i didn't post yesterday! i was super exhausted from work!

"It was almost two fucking decades ago." _And yet Gavin was still hurting like this?_ "Ain't seen her since." He says this just barely more than a whisper and Connor wonders if he's about to cry.

Wanting to hear more about him, but not wanting to hear the _pain_ in Gavin's voice is an immensely conflicting feeling for Connor.

Gavin spoke each word like it hurt him, each line short, saying just enough to get by, just enough for Connor to understand. The hand in his hair shakes, just barely, but tries to keep the rhythm. The way Gavin tried to stay strong amidst his obvious suffering was pulling at something in Connor.

He wants to kiss Gavin, in a different way than before, for a reason he can't quite understand. Connor opts for squeezing Gavin's arm again, his thumb passing over soft hairs. He wonders if this is enough for Gavin to feel comforted. Connor knows its not enough for him. "Thank you for telling me." 

There's a moment of silence and he has to bite the urge to turn and stare at Gavin, to look for the signs of tears. Connor wants to touch him more, wants to make him understand that he's _here_ , but doesn't want to be misunderstood. Especially when Gavin is so good at misunderstanding sometimes. He decides to adopt a more "Fuck It" attitude as Gavin's chest rumbles against his ear.

"It's... uh-" Connor lifts his head from Gavin and the vulnerability he sees takes the unneeded breath right out of him. Connor watches him let out a quiet "yeah." before he presses a weightless kiss to Gavin's forehead and pulls him into a head-in-shoulder hug. Gavin's hand slips from his Connor's hair and the android instantly misses the contact, but not for long (thankfully); both hands are around his waist now, but slack. Connor feels Gavin exhale over his jaw and he can't stop from saying it a second time, quieter.

"Thank you." He feels Gavin shudder against him before tightening his hold on Connor, his hands getting lost in the fabric of Connor's usual suit. It's so warm. The all-encompassing _contact_ fills Connor head-to-toe with _something_ , something light and warm and good. Connor feels something drop through his collar onto his neck and suddenly he's aware that Gavin's crying. There's no noise from him, just breath.

Connor feels his eyes close and he breathes in the smell of _him_. Leather, apples, and _whiskey_. Connor waits for Gavin to pull away, and even though it's an impossible, _ridiculous_ thing to want, he hopes he doesn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHAT THE FUCCCCKKKKK!! I woke up this morning!! and I saw FANART! of my FANFIC! DIM, u absolute icon, u made my goddamn day, thank you so much!!!!
> 
> LOOK AT THIS YALL!!!
> 
> https://deep-in-mind67.tumblr.com/post/174970334380/i-tried-got-the-big-urge-to-draw-gavin-thanks-to
> 
> HOOOOOOOOO


	15. smells like a freezer, does he? that's sexy.

Gavin doesn't mean to cry. Doesn't even feel it coming on until the saltwater is already dripping onto Connor's suit. He feels incredible relief first, and a bit of embarrassment second.

It's been such a long time, he's forgotten how good it feels to _release_. It's been such a long time since he's been held like this without the intent of fucking, or something close. It feels _right_. Gavin wonders how the everloving fuck Cyberlife made Connor so warm and so _perfect_. The hair on the back of Connor's neck was just barely brushing against Gavin's nose. Connor smells... calming. Clean and cool, like when you open a freezer and breathe in, is kinda what Connor smells like. Also, a little Cyber-DRANK. Actually, wait. Was that him or Gavin?

Fuck. It _is_ Gavin. In all this _confession_ , he completely forgot about the Cyber-DRANK covering his back. He tries not to think of it as vomit too much. Just blue alcohol, on his back, leaking onto the bathroom floor. That he'll have to clean later. With a fucking hangover to boot. Ok, he's gotta shower.

"Uh, Connor?" Gavin's heart swells (that ain't the only thing) when Connor makes a sort-of soft 'hm?' noise right against his ear. "I gotta take a shower. You, uh, ya kinda ralphed on me, remember?" Neither of them have moved, and Gavin can feel Connor's chin moving on his shoulder when he speaks.

"To ralph is to vomit, right-" a breath. Against his ear. "Gavin?"

He nods, grazing Connor's ear with his own. "Yeah, but, I gotta shower. Feels a little nasty." _Also, don't wanna clean the fucking floor in the morning._

"Alright." Despite saying this, Connor isn't moving.

"Uh, ya gotta get off me, dumbass-" Connor suddenly pulls back and meets his pretty baby browns with Gavin's grey ones.

"I can't join you?" It's said so innocently, like two bros taking a bath together is just the fucking thing to do. Gavin can feel his eyebrows lift. _Join him?_

"Wh- I, uh, I guess you cou- I mean, you probably shouldn't, but- ok?" Oh my god, why is he agreeing to this? It took all of two seconds of (bad, the worst) french-kissing for Gavin to get rock-fuckin-hard.

What in the actual fuck is he gonna do if he sees Connor shed one (1) article of clothing?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pop another boner... obviously.
> 
> TWO BROS CHILLIN IN A BATHTUB, no feet apart CAUSE THEY ARE GAY
> 
> contrary to connor being an absolute twink, i'm pretty fuckin sure he's like 6'0", and Gavin is actually 5'9"
> 
> hhhhhh, i was gonna save this til tomorrow to upload but i pressed post on accident and I didnt wanna Steal it away. jus know i love yall hoes....


	16. ur wasting hot water.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> connor and gavin are both horny on main and there's no one to stop them!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope y’all enjoy!

"Uh, Connor?" Gavin breathes against the shell of Connor's ear and he has to suppress a shiver. He grunts affirmatively, suddenly incapable of basic speech. "I gotta take a shower. You, uh, ya kinda ralphed on me, remember?" Ralphed?

"To ralph is to vomit, right, Gavin?" Connor feels Gavin nod, the quick shake somehow both calming and exciting.

"Yeah, but, I gotta shower." Connor thinks that would be nice; he loves showers. Maybe Gavin will let him take one after him... Actually. Connor has an inkling of an idea (not yet fully-formed), Gavin's still talking. "Feels a little nasty." He's still so close to Connor's ear, breath hot and _everywhere_ and warmth (why is everything warm with Gavin?) pools deep in the android's gut at the feeling.

"Alright." Connor doesn't move, wonders if Gavin can feel him against his stomach. He hopes to see Gavin flustered again (with Connor as the cause).

"Uh, ya gotta get off me, dumbass-" Okay. Connor concludes Gavin can't feel his erection, because (of this, Connor's sure) if he did, he would likely not be capable of insults, as he is now. Disappointing. Connor decides to take it a bit further. He lifts his head from Gavin's shoulder, meeting icey-grey eyes, and he ignores the melting in his chest to speak.

"I can't join you?" Ah. There it is. Connor can almost (no, actually _can_ ) feel the heat radiating from Gavin's cheeks. He's sure if he grazes the detective with his fingertips, he’ll have third-degree burns. He tries to keep his face neutral when Gavin starts stuttering.

"Wh- I, uh, I guess you cou- I mean, you probably shouldn't, but- ok?" Granted permission, Connor shrugs off his suit jacket just past his shoulders before the hands on his back slide forward and grab his wrists. "Wha-what're you- doin' exactly?" What does it look like he's doing?

"I'm taking off my clothes, Gavin. For the shower." Connor's voice is smooth, somehow, the only thing keeping it that way being his new-found love for terrorizing the detective.

"But- _yeah_ , but why _on_ me?" Gavin's voice comes out in a near-hysterical squeak and Connor can’t help the laugh that escapes him. Gavin's ears were red as roses now, sweat dripping down his temple. Connor was _making him like this_.

"Why not?"

Connor breaks free of Gavin's hold (it doesn't take much) and undoes his tie before letting it fall on the floor behind him. Actually, he should probably turn on the shower, before he gets all undressed like this. He leans over Gavin and inputs the ideal temp. He returns to the straddle, and Gavin suddenly has him by the mouth again. 

He still doesn’t know how to french-kiss, his tongue is just too big, too slippery and the lack of transition from no-tongue to tongue this time is so abrupt it makes Connor gasp. His fingers are under Gavin's jacket (why is that still on?) and it's all over for him. Their kiss breaks, just for a second, and Gavin shucks off his aforementioned jacket in an instant before going back in for more.

He's positive (there's simply no way he can't) that Gavin can feel his erection now. He has to. Gavin stops kissing his lips and starts kissing his jaw and it feels like his thirium regulator is malfunctioning. Like, _everything_ is malfunctioning. 

Thirium’s pumping through his ears so hard he can barely hear himself breathe. He knows he’s being loud, doesn’t even know when his hands slip from Gavin’s chest into his hair. The kisses reach his neck and Connor can’t help but tighten his grip and _hold_ Gavin there.

It’s all so much, and yet Connor wants _more_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> connor, u minx!!!!
> 
> Connor: I’m proud to identify as morosexual. I’m attracted to dumbasses and dumbasses exclusively. A guy asked me what the Spanish word for tortilla was once and now I dream of kissing him under the moonlight.
> 
> Same idiot (Gavin): what kinda animal is the pink panther?
> 
> Connor, already taking off his clothes: Gavin you’re so fucking stupid


	17. don't gotta tell him twice... oh, u do?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dim does it again!!! 
> 
> https://deep-in-mind67.tumblr.com/post/175037499390/more-art-from-the-fic-why-the-hell-is-connor-so
> 
> They drew best boy Connor wonderfully!!!! Thank you so much again!!! Thinking about how my fic inspired u to create such amazing art makes me bust a whole nutt! :-))

Oh, fucking God, _he’s stripping_. Connor’s trademark tie slips from his fingers onto the floor, pooling on the bathroom tiles just behind him and Gavin is probably losing his mind. He’s entranced, watching as Connor brings his finger to his chest to unbutton his collar, before leaning over/into Gavin to turn on the shower. Wait.

 _Is that-? Is he-?_ Connor returns to his original position, perched on Gavin, but closer than before and Gavin’s suspicions are confirmed. _He IS._

If they even make it to the shower, Gavin knows he’s not gonna last more than two fucking seconds, _at most_. He decides he oughtta make the most of the time before they step in.

Gavin’s tongue is in Connor’s mouth faster than he can stop himself, but why would he? 

Connor gasps and his hands are under Gavin’s jacket in a second, twisted up in his undershirt. The fabric catches on Gavin’s nipples just barely and he could (does) _groan_. All this arousal (plus the steam from the shower) was making the little bathroom unbearably hot and Gavin suddenly doesn’t understand why in the fuck he still has a leather jacket on. It’s off in an instant, joining Connor suit jacket and tie.

He’s frenching Connor before the undeniably urge to kiss the android _all over_ weaves it’s way into his lips. Connor’s cheeks are so terribly soft under Gavin’s lips, and so perfectly warm.

His lips graze a soft spot between Connor’s earlobe and the edge of his jaw and the hands in Gavin’s hair grow tight. Connor barely moves his hips against Gavin, and he can _feel Connor’s cock against his stomach_. In a stroke of lust, his hands fall past the android’s hips and settle on his ass before he drags his tongue across _the spot_.

Gavin can hear his breath cut short and feels Connor lean into the wet, hot pressure, lifting his head, giving Gavin access. 

A hand leaves his hair and Gavin feels the path Connor’s hand takes before landing on his own tented trousers. The back of Connor’s fist is touching Gavin’s stomach, and he can’t see, but he _feels_ Connor squeeze himself. The thought that he wanted (needed, if Gavin could believe it) to touch himself made Gavin smile against the android’s neck, it gives him the confidence to pull his own hand across Connor’s thigh.

“Hey,” Gavin murmurs against his neck, wonders if he might like the vibrations. “no. Lemme.” 

“Yes,” It comes out quick, breathy, almost like a hiss. He can feel Connor’s adam’s apple bob with his chin and fuck, he wants to look at his face but he doesn’t want to break the connection. 

“Yes.”

Gavin doesn’t need to be told a third time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh GOD I used the c word... also, I feel like I used their names a million and a half times lmao
> 
> Hope y’all liked it!! (...they still ain’t even in the shower oh my god)


	18. ok, but, where's the correlation?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it continues

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope u enjoy! ;-)

Gavin's tongue swipes over Connor's skin, and it feels he can't breathe, can't stop himself from opening up, exposing his neck in a clear declaration of "more, please." He's so greedy, he knows, but he can't stop a hand from pulling from the detective's soft locks and reaching down to touch himself. It's never been like this before, Connor's never felt such a intense need to _release_. It almost feels like if he doesn't address his erection, he might just die. Is this how humans feel all the time? He doesn't know how they can even function like this.

He gives himself a squeeze through the fabric and instantly feels less wound-up, yet simultaneously more needy. Connor distantly, discontentedly, notices that Gavin's tongue isn't moving over his skin anymore. 

"Hey," Gavin's hand is on his thigh now and Connor _knows he's trying to say something_ but can't quite manage to stop his own hand from pressing himself again. "no. Lemme." Connor's so disoriented by lust he almost doesn't understand exactly what the detective's trying to say. Gavin? Touch him? Yes. Yes. _Yes._

"Yes." _Please._ He swallows. "Yes." He doesn't have to say it a third time. Gavin palms Connor over his trousers and it's so absolutely different from the (not-all-that-many) times Connor's tried a hand at self-pleasure, despite the lack of direct contact. Connor's last hand falls from Gavin's hair and over his shoulder, the crook of his elbow resting on Gavin's nape, the other relaxed on his thigh. The detective stops kissing Connor's neck (a shame) to see, before untucking and unbuttoning the lower half of Connor's frustratingly meticulous ensemble. 

"Ya got so many fuckin' clothes, Con." The elation from the nickname warms his cheeks, and the fact that Gavin was having a tough time undressing him causes a soft laugh to escape him, before Gavin ventures a hand into Connor's pants. His vision goes white for a second and he moans, short and loud, and _embarrassing_ , and they're kissing again, Connor's bottom lip between Gavin's teeth. 

The lack of control, the cripplingly-overwhelming feeling of _Gavin_ touching him in not one, but two places is making Connor's head spin. 

Breath hisses between his teeth and he ~~wants~~ no, _needs_ to touch Gavin, to feel if he's in the same state, if he's being undone just as he's managing to undo Connor. He tentatively moves his hand further up Gavin's thigh, before his wrist is held in place.

"-Probably shouldn't." Confusion, tinged with a little hurt, slams Connor, before Gavin seems to notice his mood-change and releases Connor's wrist. "I mean-" He sighs, humid air brushing over Connor's lips. "I'm boutta bust as is..." Oh. Mmm. That's... pleasing to hear, but Connor doesn't understand why that means he can't _touch_ Gavin.

"Gavin. What's the correlation exactly between that and me being able to touch you?" It comes out a bit more breathless than intended, but the point gets across. The detective's eyes widen and his mouth slacks just barely.

"I- er, well, because... it'll be over-" Gavin takes a quick breath. "- _I_ don't _want_ this to be over too fast." _That's all?_

"That's fine, I doesn't bother me, you... _coming_ before me. In fact," Connor's hand, free, has found it's way closer to the detective's zipper, his fingertips barely touching the button. 

"-I think I'd like to see it happen."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi, my name is shaylee, and i love run on sentences that indicate being overwhelmed, in case that wasn't fucking OBVIOUS...
> 
> HHHH, idky but this took the whole fuckin day to write,
> 
> also.. I'm really sorry I'm bad at writing big chapters!! i know it's gotta be a little disappointing! 
> 
> i think after i finish the smut scene I might pile it all up, neaten the transitions in POV, then make it a Big Ol Chapter
> 
> thanks for sticking with me despite the chapter length!!!! :-)


	19. connor: phoned home!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y’all may have a slightly longer chapter... ONCE

"-I think I'd like to see it happen." Gavin can't help but admire the way Connor's so fucking unafraid to say the wildest shit right to his face. Connor wants to watch him come, and Gavin has no reason to deny him that, if he's being honest.

Connor's barely touching Gavin's jean button and the anticipation is killing him before he realizes that Connor's waiting for permission.

"Ye-yeah, go ahead-" Connor doesn't wait for him to finish his sentence before unbuttoning and unzipping with absolute fucking precision (fuck, those were tight) and Gavin can't _not_ watch. He needs to memorize every stroke, because there's a huge chance Connor isn't gonna wanna touch him ever again, a huge chance that next time Connor gives him a handy it's gonna be in Gavin's dreams. Anyways, point is, he's gonna be filing this drunken sexcapade in his spank bank, and on his life, he's not gonna miss a single damn thing.

Gavin can't help but gasp when Connor finally pulls down the waistband of his damp boxers and _touches him_ and he's knows it hasn't been long (shit, no, it's been _months_ ) since someone's touched him, and god, Connor is so fucking gentle, he's just barely holding Gavin's dick in his amazing, spectacular, _soft_ hand. It's completely unlike the way Gavin touches himself when he thinks of Connor and he notes that he's gonna have to change his technique after this. 

"Gavin." Connor says his name like a sigh and leans forward, his cheekbone on Gavin's jaw, the arm around his neck sliding down, leaving his hand on Gavin's nape, pulling him closer. "I don't know what to do next." Gavin can just barely hear -something- in Connor's voice and he _knows_ he's lying, just wants Gavin to- "Tell me what to do, Detective." His lips graze Gavin's ear and fuck, he thought he was all sobered up, but the way Connor just- is the way he is, has Gavin feeling tipsy all over again. Fuck, Gavin needs to stop being awkward, start being sexy, stop being awkward, start being sexy. Please, god, don't fucking _stutter_.

"Well, uh" Failed step one. "You just kinda-" This is NOT a sexy start, _fuck,_ he sucks at dumb shit like this. "Hold it, and do what you think looks right." He can feel Connor smirk against his jaw, before following Gavin's orders (not even.) _What a little shit._

His forehead drops onto Gavin's shoulder and they're both _watching_ Connor's hand curled around Gavin's dick, pumping lazily, and Gavin wonders if he's being this torturously slow with him on purpose. Connor lifts his head slightly to mouth at Gavin's neck, trailing back to his shoulder, as his thumb swipes across the head of Gavin's dick. He can't stop his eyes from fluttering shut, his head falling onto Connor's shoulder, the hand on his neck barely massaging and it feels like they're built for eachother, it's all just so fucking _right._

"Fffffuck, Connor-" Gavin breathes, whines. God, he's so close, and Connor's going so slow, he's getting a bit teary. "You too. -please- Lemme touch you too." Connor's hands don't stop, he just "mm-hmm"s into Gavin's skin, and the vibration makes him shiver despite the heat. He has to resist the urge to thrust into Connor's hand, to make him go faster and, shit, is Connor edging him on purpose? 

Gavin's shaking as he reaches for Connor's tent, only now noticing the darkened spots in the charcoal fabric where precome soaked through, and pulls the waistband of Connor's pants and briefs away from his stomach, before reaching in and pulling Connor's dick above it all. It's leaking precome and Gavin entertains the thought of tasting Connor for a minute before wrapping his hand around the shaft, not quite ready to start jerking him off. 

He only got to touch Connor for a split-second earlier, before the attention got focused on him, and he hadn't gotten to appreciate it. It's, fucking obviously, expertly crafted, an absolute specimen, even his pubes are perfect, dark and trimmed. Shit, it's hard to focus when he's getting a handjob himself. He gives Connor a quick pump, entranced by the way his foreskin pulls from the head, leaking precome onto Gavin's hand, and Gavin can't -doesn't try to- stop from bringing the dribble to his mouth and _tasting_. It's absolutely fucking obscene and Connor's just watching him, and their eyes lock and fuck, he wants Connor's dick in his mouth. Wants the weight on his tongue, wants to smell Connor's sex fucking radiating off him with each suck. Just the thought pulls his balls tight and he instantly knows he's about to come.

"Connor, I- fuck," Gavin's gasping, and he can feel his legs are flexing and shit, shit, shit- "I'm gonna co-" He's cut off by his own moan and his eyes are screwed shut and all he can think is that he's touching _Connor_ and Connor's touching _him_ , and they're touching _eachother_. He doesn't want this to end, he doesn't want this to end, he doesn't want this to _end._ Connor's still stroking him, just as steady as before, the hand on his neck squeezing and releasing with each perfect pump. Gavin's bones feel like jello and he could just about fall asleep. 

"I liked that." It's whispered, so light against the space between Gavin's neck and shoulder he almost doesn't hear Connor. Gavin finally unscrews his eyes, gaining a little more control over his muscles, realizing that Connor's been watching him the whole time with those beautiful whiskey-brown eyes, half-lidded and wanting.

"Touch me, Gavin," and he _is_ already touching him, but he knows Connor means "more."

He doesn't speak, honestly can't, just keeps his eyes Connor as he strokes him, languid at first. The way he relaxes against Gavin, his eyes softly closing, his LED flashing a quick yellow before keeping blue, fills Gavin's heart with something sweet and molten. He drags his thumb across Connor's slit, and smears a stripe of the slick down Connor's shaft and he gasps. His mouth is on the Gavin's neck and he nips the skin there, just a soft scrape with his canines and Gavin chokes back a groan before speeding up.

"Gavin, Gavin, Ga-!" Connor's mouth is on him again, his hips shuddering, and bites Gavin, not hard enough to draw blood, but certainly hard enough to hurt. Gavin can barely feel it, just glad he knows this isn't a fucking dream.

His mouth is dry as he watches Connor come, white strings landing on his and Connor's shirt, mixing with Gavin's. 

They're both panting, the air thick with steam (he'd completely forgot the showers still on, shit), and suddenly Connor's LED is yellow. He doesn't move his head from Gavin's shoulder.

"Gavin, Hank's calling." Gavin starts, hitting his elbow on the toilet paper dispenser. 

“I’m going to answer.”

"Wha-? Don't answe-" Gavin doesn't finish his sentence before Connors already talking with the Lieutenant, his voice tired, and a little bit hoarse.

"Hello, Hank, what do you need?" There's a pause and Gavin can't hear a fucking thing Lieutenant Anderson is saying, but his spidey-sense tells him that he’s bitching. "It's 8:28, and-" Another silence. "Hank, I can take care of myself." He looks over to Gavin. "It's fine. I'll be home in 20 minutes, approximately." Connor's LED goes blue again almost immediately and Gavin wonders if Connor hanging up on the Lieutenant was a common occurrence.

"I have to go home. Hank is still ill and I have to get 'chow' for Sumo." _Who the fuck's Sumo?_ Connor climbs off of Gavin and he instantly misses the weight on his thighs.

"Ah, wait," He grabs Connor’s hand, clinging to Connor made him feel like an unwanted mistress, but he couldn’t help it. “I can take you home.”

“It’s alright, Detective, you need to shower anyways.” Connor squeezes Gavin’s hand in his before looking him over. A smile tugging at his lips. "See you tomorrow, Gavin."

Connor leaves Gavin alone in his bathroom, and holy fuck.

Gavin doesn't like Connor. He fucking loves him, and he doesn't know if he can just act like this didn't happen tomorrow at the precinct.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh, god... he freaked it. Also, these bitches really having Midnight Feelings @ 8:28 PM???!
> 
> connor is a power bottom (catch him making a note in his noggin about how gavin is above average size, absolutely fuckin HUNG). fucking astounding. 
> 
> also YALL... gavin said PLEASE........ he's got table manners.
> 
> wuigduwegfi, ok, this took forever to write. y'all my initial plan was for connor to be giving gavin the suck, only to have hank call and ask him to come home and shit, but connor answers before he pops off gavin's dick, so hank hears the suction and is like "tf is that" and connor can barely explain his way outta that one, that would've been fuckin FUNNY but I didn't want connor to miss that nutt :-)


	20. connor: phoned home! (Part II)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> can androids get hickeys? asking for a friend

The ride back home was difficult for Connor, for more than one reason.

He didn’t want to leave Gavin, but Hank was sick, and Connor didn’t want to leave him alone, even though he’d been unnecessarily short with him on the phone.

_”What time do you think it is, Connor?”_ Hank was terse and Connor could tell he was worried, even though his misplaced scolding was hitting a nerve. 

“It’s 8:28 and-“ Connor doesn’t like being cut off, but he doesn’t make a fuss about it. 

“There’s been a surge in android murders. You know this, Connor, I know you do, yet you still jus-“ It is 8:28, and Connor appreciates Hank’s worry even when it annoys him, but he can take care of himself. 

“Hank, I can take care of myself.” He has proven this on more than one occasion. Hank is silent for a second, and Connor has learned to read Hank especially well over the past few months. He knows that Hank understands that Connor is capable, but it doesn’t stop the lieutenant from worrying about him. He’s only human. The mild annoyance at being underestimated dissipates at the realization. 

“Jeffery told me you worked a case with that fuckin’ prick Reed today? I swear if that fuckwit said anythin-“ Connor can’t help but look at Gavin. Said anything? No. 

They’d _touched_ eachother. The proof was on the front of Connor’s uniform, drying. It was something personal and frightening and lovely. Something he wanted to drown in, to sink and sit at the bottom of. 

“It’s fine.” But he should go home. Even though he doesn’t really want to. If Hank wasn’t sick, he’d have asked to spend the night. Hank would’ve probably said something like “the hell are you askin’ me for, Connor?” And then he would have showered with Gavin, and laid in his bed. And they would wake next to eachother. Perhaps go into work, both a bit late. 

_But he should go home._ “I’ll be home in twenty minutes, approximately.” He hangs up on Hank, and instantly feels like that will incur Hank’s fatherly wrath when he gets home. Oh, well. His eyes are still locked with Gavin’s and he wishes he could stay but- 

“I have to go home. Hank is still ill,” He remembers that Hank had put ‘dog chow’ on the grocery list earlier this week. He could pick it up on the way home. “And I have to get ‘chow’ for Sumo.” He calls a taxi in a blink before sliding off of Gavin, his legs a bit weak, and grabs his suit jacket from the floor. 

Gavin grabs his hand and Connor feels palpitations, with a side of melancholy. 

“Ah, wait, I can take you home.” No, he can’t. Gavin still has vomit on his shirt, and judging by the absolute lack of disarray and dust in his living space, Gavin is a person who prioritizes cleanliness. 

“It’s alright, Detective, you need to shower anyways.” Connor feels a bit of pleasure from being able to distract Gavin from his priorities, but not longer. He smiles, squeezing the hand in his. 

“See you tomorrow, Gavin.” He leaves the bathroom before he finds some reason to stay. Connor glances at the dog mugs on the table before completely exiting the detectives house. 

~~~ 

Again, the ride home is difficult for Connor. He doesn’t want to leave the detective, he has Gavin’s ejaculate (as well as his own) on his uniform, and he’s unsure if he can keep his mouth shut when faced with the lieutenant’s investigative techniques. 

He’s also still very sensitive, and with each bump the self-driving taxi hits, he’s reminded of what just happened, which brings him back to reason one. He reaches a hand up to tighten his tie, a calming preening gesture, only to be met with an empty neck. _Oh._

He’d forgotten his tie at Gavin’s. He reaches into his pocket for his coin, and fiddles with it. 

He’ll have to get it tomorrow. 

~~~ 

There’s a certain level of anxiety when he reaches his front door that he hadn’t calculated when he had been in the taxi. 

He sends a message to Hank to tell him that he’s at their door. It takes approximately fifteen seconds for the lieutenant to unlock, and open the door, Sumo barking every step of the way. 

Hank looks haggard, more so than usual, which is a strange impossibility. 

“How’s your temperature? What have you eaten today?” Hank scoffs goodnaturedly. 

“Hello to you too, Connor.” His eyes drop to Connor’s neck and “The hell happened to ur tie?” There’s genuine confusion lined in his face. Connor knows there’s no way Hank knows that his tie is on Gavin’s bathroom tile (probably folded on his dresser (does he even have a dresser?) at this point) but thirium pounds in his head nonetheless. 

“Uh.” Connor doesn’t use filler words. It must seem glaringly obvious that he’s hiding something to a superior detective like Hank. “I simply lost it in the grocery store.” How does someone lose a tie when purchasing ‘dog chow?’ Connor would like to know. He stares at Connor for forever before he sneezes, massively. He sniffles miserably. 

“Whatever. Don’t wanna even think about it.” Hank’s stuffed nose makes it sound more like “whudebber.” He turns his back on Connor to plop himself on the couch, Sumo pants at Connor before joining him. 

Connor pauses a moment at the threshold before stepping into Hank’s house, his Home. He steps into the kitchen, dropping the bag of ‘chow’ on the floor next to Sumo’s bowl. 

He’s still wearing _the_ shirt, but he’s less worried now that Hank- 1: doesn’t want to think too heavily on anything and 2: his eyes are likely so blurry with mucus, he wouldn’t be able to see the different shades of white on his shirt anyways. 

“How’s your day been, Hank?” A quick scan of the kitchen tells him that Hank had microwaved a bowl of ramen, barely ate half of it. Had he eaten anything else? 

“Jus laid on the couch all day.” He sniffles again. “Ate some chicken ramen and gave Sumo a few slurps, pinnacle of my fuckin’ day.” Connor takes that as a no on whether he’s eaten anything of actual nutritional value. He scans the fridge, before coming up with several possible recipes. He chooses the one with the most situational relevance. 

“Would you like some homemade chicken noodle soup? We have the ingredients for it and I’m 87% positive you’ve eating next to nothing but garbage all day.” 

He grabs the ingredients from the fridge before Hank can protest. 

“Ya know, back in college, I ate that shit every day and loved it. Ramen fucking _sustains_.” 

“Ramen might ‘sustain’ a teenager.” Connor smiles jokingly, before setting noodles up to boil on the stove and cracking open a can of chicken. 

“You callin’ me old, asshole?” Connor doesn’t have to look behind him to know that Hank’s smiling. He can hear that scowly-smile in his voice. 

“Maybe.” 

~~~ 

Connor finishes the soup, lets it sit for a bit before bringing a bowl and a tube of saltines to Hank, sitting in the empty space next to him before actually handing him the soup. Hank looks at him for a second. His eyes landing on Connor’s neck for a second before he slurps up a noodle. 

Connor turns to watch the tv before Hank speaks again, teasing, his mouth full of soup. 

“Hm. Didn’t know androids could get hickeys.” 

Shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I used to ship Connor and Hank before I saw the error of my ways. Now they are but son and father to me.
> 
> BAHAHHAHAHA LITTTLE BITCH THOUGHT HE GOT AWAY WITH IT! Also... it feels like this chapter is longish... if it’s longer than any of my other chapters I’m gonna shoot myself probably 
> 
> Word count (not-quite) wasted on some Hank-Connor Bonding...


	21. u LEECH.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> by fixed, i mean i added two lines about the tie bc I'm lazy and Gavin's too much of a coward to give Connor his tie In The Middle Of The Precinct anyways.... pussyboy

Gavin wakes up the next morning, his head pounding to the beat of his alarm clock. At least he's not sick-hungover, just... hungover-hungover. Can androids (Connor) get hungover?

The clock tells him that it's 9:30, so he's been awake for less than a minute. It's been less than a minute since Gavin woke up and he's _already thinking about Connor_. His mind instantly conjures the image of Connor's hand, (beautiful, almost dainty, if not for it's size) wrapped around Gavin's cock, before he files it away. He needs to get out bed. 

_Or does he?_ He freezes, half-way out from under his comforter. It's 9:31 now, he hadn't even intended on getting to work before noon, he's got more than enough time to pull one out-.

Should he-? ...He should. He slides back under the sheets, the leftover heat from before settling back in. He grabs himself over his boxers, and the motion instantly has him hard. His eyes are closed and he's remembering Connor from last night, the way his hand eased down and _squeezed_ , and Gavin's headache is suddenly overshadowed by a masturbation-high. He's mimicking Connor before he can think about it, thinking about how thin the fabric of his boxers are compared to Connor's trousers, how he couldn't feel every inch of Connor like he could himself, like he can right now. Heat radiates through the fabric, feels good in his hand, and Gavin wants Connor like his, warm and almost-touching. He slides his hand under the waistband, fingers catching on untrimmed hairs before reaching smooth heat. His hips jerk just barely at the expected contact and Connor's breathy moans play in his head. He slides to the tip, thumb catching drops of precome and he's stroking faster before he can help it, tricep cramping a bit from the strain of lifting Connor.

He's pushing his head against the pillow, his right leg lifting him from the bed just barely. A soft "fuck" slips from between his lips and it's too easy to come. 

~~~

Gavin peels out of the apartment lot and he's not sure how he's supposed to conduct himself today at the precinct. How is he supposed to act with Connor? Like they're buddies? Like Gavin still hates him (not that he even _has_ for months now)? He's not sure he can keep that shit up anymore. Too much has changed in a day.

He's got Connor's tie, but he honestly doesn't know what he's gonna do with it. Give it to him? Yeah... but when the fuck is he supposed to manage that?

He wonders if Chris is still sick... And Anderson, he supposes.

He wishes he didn’t worry about this shit so much. Wishes he could just fucking talk to Connor like a normal person with a crush. But he can’t. He’s getting depressingly introspective and it’s fucking annoying.

He finally reaches the precinct, searching the lot for Anderson’s dumb (he wants it) stupid, (god, he wants it) Old Fucking Car (he wants it so bad, it’s Gavin’s fuckin’ dream car.) It’s not there. Good. Alright. 

He jogs to the door, for almost no reason, just wants the day over before it’s even begun. He plops into his chair before deciding to feign casual, setting his feet (crossed) on his desk. He sits there unsure of what to do exactly now that he’s reached peak nonchalant, before whipping out his phone and shooting a text to Chris.

**Gavin: u still sick?**

**Chris: oh? So now u worry about how i’m holding up... huh.....** Gavin scoffs before typing.

 **Gavin: yes DICKHEAD, forgot to ask yesterday** “Dickhead” autocapitalizes.

**Chris: a Real dickhead forgets their dear friend and PARTNER(!) is ill... SICK. And doesn’t text them!**

**Gavin: not ur friend, all a sudden** sends at the same time as **Chris: so U r the dickhead here!** delivers.

Gavin waits for Chris to respond.

 **Chris: i’m Still sick as shit tho. I will be ok tomorrow probably...** Gavin thinks about that for a second before another text comes in.

**Chris: unless u only want to know because u NEED something, u LEECH. >:^(**

**Gavin: no,-** Gavin’s interrupted before he can finish his text.

“Detective- _Gavin_ , Hank knows.” Gavin’s feet slip off his desk, a folder coming with them, and Connor is _there_ , he's tieless and Gavin’s already so anxious just with Connor _existing_ and _Hank knows_?

“I’m sorry, that was vague, but Hank’s coming in after me, I had to walk just slightly faster than him to get a 7-second headstart but-“ Connor’s speaking incredibly fast. “I made it and Hank is aware someone left a hickey on my neck last night. He doesn’t know it was you.” An extremely small pause. “But he knows _someone_ did. And Hank is a superior detective, it’s only a matter of time before-“ Connor turns and walks away like he wasn’t speaking to Gavin in the first place.

Lieutenant Anderson walks in, the usual dislike from Gavin now accompanied by mild fear. He sniffles and makes his way to his desk.

Ok, but what can Anderson fucking do to him anyways, huh? Connor is an adult, kinda (hm...)! And it’s not like Anderson can beat his ass right in the precinct! ...Ah... but that time with Perkins... fuck.

Anderson sits at his desk and Gavin hears him say a stuffy “the fuck’re you walkin’ up in here so fast for?” to Connor across his terminal.

 _Act normal._

He picks up the fallen folder off the floor before whipping out his phone again and finishing the text.

**Gavin: no, just didn’t wanna be alone today**

**Gavin: partnerless I mean, shut up.**

The day turns out surprisingly uneventful. Anderson doesn’t talk to him once. He catches Connor’s eye on more than one occasion, each time Connor giving him one of those terrible smiles (so awkward and triangular and it makes Gavin love him more, if that’s even possible), before going back to work. Connor's tie is burning a hole in his back pocket, but he decides it's probably best if Gavin doesn't give Hank a reason to maul him. His phone pings.

**Chris: >:^)**

Gavin’s in the fucking clear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YALL EVER DO SOME SNEAKY SHIT BEHIND UR PARENTS BACK W FRIENDS AND UR JUS LIKE “shit, they know, they know, they’re so fucking Smart about shit like this” to ur friends but then... they don’t even Notice
> 
> ALSO SKDJSJDJJDS I DUNNO WHY I MADE CHRIS LIKE THIS IN TEXT, I jus feel like he’s all Normal when he’s speaking but in text he’s just... Like That... and Gavin’s just :| in text... no PERSONALITY!
> 
> SMH my head WROTE A WHOLE ASS CHAPTER BUT FORGOT ABOUT THE TIE, thank u markusperez for directly mentioning it BC IM A DUMBASSSSSS!!!!!!


	22. came to talk to that sweetheart of yours, huh?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOOOO PARDON ME FOR MY LATENESS!
> 
> (Thank u amazingbeth, for quality-checking me!)

"Hm. Didn't know androids could get hickeys." Hank says it faux-nonchalant, teasing, a smirk playing on his face before he brings the bowl to his mouth and sips.

"I. Not." Connor feels as though he's been nailed. "I'm not sure what you mean, Hank." Hank turns to him, humor and a tinge of pride glimmering in his eyes. 

"Jus' glad you're having fun, son. Anyways, how was the case with Detective Asshole today?"

Connor appears to be in the clear.

~~~

Connor can't sleep, instead lying on the bed Hank got him, eyes to the ceiling, and thinking over his day. He’s wearing plaid pajama pants and a Knights of the Black Death Farewell Tour t-shirt, 3 sizes too big. His uniform lies, washed and perfectly folded, on top of the hamper next to his door.

The Eden Club dismemberment case was on his mind for a few seconds before it drifts to Gavin. He closes his eyes and tries to playback the memory of last night, but it's muddled, not crystal-clear and concrete like it is usually. He hadn't realized the Cyber-DRANK would affect the way his memory was stored. Certain moments are clearer than others, and he speculates that maybe this is likely how humans remember things. Interesting. Are the memories clearer based on emotional significance? The feeling of Gavin's arms around him, warm water seeping into his collar. That was a pleasantly heavy feeling, like he had taken on a burden, but hadn't minded doing so. Gavin's lips, wet and warm, moving, and his tongue even more so. When they touched his neck, Gavin's breath barely a whisper against his earlobe, Connor felt like he was buzzing. It managed to make him numb, yet sensitive at the same time.

 _Connor wants to see him again_. He's never felt something quite like this, similar, yet so different than the attachment he feels for Hank. 

He wonders if Gavin is also lying in bed, thinking about Connor. It keeps him up longer than he'd care to admit.

~~~

He rises from sleep mode quickly the next morning. He managed to get his clothes clean and dry last night, but his tie was still missing. There's a low likelihood of Gavin bringing it to work, much less giving it to him. Perhaps, he could go visit him in his home again and retrieve it. And maybe, _possibly_ , do things unrelated to the tie.

He steps out of his room to watch Criminal Minds and sit with Sumo on the couch until Hank wakes up, before hearing him in the kitchen, the coffee-maker humming.

"Hank, you're up early. Is there an occasion that calls for it?" He had meant for it to sound less teasing, but he can't find it in himself to regret the tone.

"You sayin' I don't ever get up early or somethin'?" His voice is less stuffy than last night, but still holds the hoarseness. Hank is dressed in a different sleep shirt, as well as different shorts than before, and Connor concludes he took a shower this morning. His fever must have broke.

"Actually, yes." He definitely means for that one to come out teasing. "Statistically speaking, before now, you had a 29 percent chance of waking up before noon, nevermind waking up before 9." Hank guffaws and pours coffee into the mug Connor got him for Father's Day.

"Well, smartass, have you considered I got up early just because?" He sips his coffee.

"No, actually." He had, but he also knows it would amuse Hank if he said no. "Are we going to the precinct earlier as well?"

"Sure, just gimme a minute to change and we can head out."

~~~ 

"So... who's the lucky guy-or-gal?" 

They're in the car, parked in the DPD lot and Connor may have noticed a small amount of conversational-tension on the way there, but hadn't really expected this turn of conversation. 

"Uh. I... Hank, the, uh. I don't think you want to know." That was the wrong answer, because Hank _did_ want to know, and Connor's answer had only stirred the fire, Connor could see it in his eyes.

"Oh? Is it someone I know?" A miniscule pause, as though he got the answer right from Connor's traitorous face. His voice raises a pitch. "From the precinct?" Connor turns away immediately, afraid of what other information it might let slip.

"Uh! No! It is not. Let's head inside, please." He looks out the window for a second before stepping out of the car, not waiting for Hank. He needs to get to Gavin and debrief him, before Hank comes in. He heads to the precinct doors in an undeniably nonchalant speed-walk. "I actually need to grab something from Evidence. It's time-sensitive. See you inside, Hank!" Connor is a terrible, terrible, liar, of this, he’s aware.

He's got a eight-second head-start when he finally gets to Gavin's desk, but his eyes are on his phone and he's smiling, and Connor wastes a second just _looking_ at Gavin. His feet are crossed on top of his desk, and Connor has thought the habit was... interesting since the first time he saw him do it, but that interest has since been replaced by fondness. The words finally come out of Connor's mouth.

"Detective-" No, that's not quite right. " _Gavin_ , Hank knows." Gavin's feet fall to the floor and he's looking at Connor, phone held in a less-than-tight grip. Connor realizes that's not enough information.

"I’m sorry, that was vague, but Hank’s coming in after me, I had to walk just slightly faster than him to get a 7-second headstart but, I made it and Hank is aware someone left a hickey on my neck last night.” Connor rambles, it’s a frustrating habit. “He doesn’t know it was you. But he knows someone did. And Hank is a superior detective, it’s only a matter of time before-" His seven seconds are up. He turns away from Gavin and goes to sit at his own terminal.

Hank comes in, and it's clear to Connor that he must've sneezed while he was outside. He hadn't been sniffly when they were in the car. He sits across from Connor before grabbing a tissue and blowing his nose. He leans into his desk.

"The fuck’re you walkin’ up in here so fast for?" Then, lowering his voice, a hand over his mouth. "Came to talk to that sweetheart of yours, huh?" Connor can't fight the blue blush that settles in his cheeks. He concedes. 

"Maybe." Connor’s quiet, like he’s saying it to himself.

Hank doesn't ask about it the rest of the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In my mind, Hank’s Father’s Day cup says #1 Dad. But in my heart? ...#1 ~~Dad~~ Pussy Destroyer...
> 
> ALSO FUCK this chapter was kicking my ass...


	23. fuck it!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> time skip a little!

Gavin feels as though he's at an impasse. 

Connor hasn't talked to him goddamn-near a week (three days), and Gavin feels a bit like he's fucking dying. He thought it was painful not talking to Connor _before._

"You seem... preoccupied." Chris Miller's voice brings his head out of the Connor-gutter. They're sitting in the breakroom, watching the news and talking, and Gavin realizes Chris probably was saying something and he ignored him.

"Fuck, sorry, yeah." He takes a sip of his coffee (less like coffee, and more like straight-creamer at this point.) "'M just thinkin' about something. What'd you say?" Chris gave him a look lined with curiosity before repeating himself.

"I said, it's pretty fucking wild that-" God, Gavin wants to see Connor again so bad. He still has his tie. Does he even want it back? "-and, you're not listening again. Do I have to actually put a gun to your head to make you give me the attention I deserve? I _have_ interesting things to _say_ , Gavin," He pauses. "Most of the time, but not now, I guess." Chris narrows his eyes slightly before setting down his mug of coffee, giving Gavin his full attention. "Tell me what the hell you're thinking about, it's annoying talking to you when you're dead like this."

"I- Fuck." Gavin has been overly-forthcoming with details of sexcapades with Chris in the past ("ew, Gavin, what the actual fuck"), but this is different. Gavin loves Connor, and Connor's, well, an android, and Gavin's been vehemently against androids from the start. It's scarier to Gavin than most people to come out and say he was wrong about something, especially when that something was a philosophy based in hate.

"Take your time." Gavin does. 

Maybe Chris would understand? He hadn't been on the androids side in the beginning either, he'd changed after Markus saved him. When Gavin talked shit about androids (it's embarrassing to remember what he's said given how he feels now) Chris started to come to their defense. But he'd had supported them _during_ the Revolution at least, was it too late for Gavin to suddenly be on their side?

Gavin can feel his face scrunch at the thought.

"Maybe..." Gavin sighs. It's fucking infuriating that he can't just _talk_ about things like this bluntly, he fucking _has to_ say shit roundaboutly, and act as though he hasn't felt this way for fucking _months_ now. "Androids are. Equal. To... humans." An absolute fucking understatement. Why is it so hard to say he sees Connor as a person and is head-over-heels in love with him? He _knows_ Chris isn't gonna judge him, yet he's still like this.

"Yeah?" Chris's chin is in his palm, his other hand twisted in his coffee mugs handle. "And...?"

"And." Fuck it fuck it fuck it fuck it _FUCK IT._ "I'm in love with one." His lips suck into his mouth, never to be seen again. Holy fucking shit, he said it. Not by name, but he _said it_. Relief and embarrassment entangle around his heart and squeeze. Chris smiles.

"Finally decided to fucking tell me, huh."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chris has, dare i say it, been knew... gavin is his besty after all
> 
> FUCK THIS ONES REALLY SHORT BUT ILL POP OUT THE NEXT ONE IN AN HOUR(ish) I PROMISE


	24. for no clear reason.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> u know i had to do it to em.
> 
> hope y'all enjoy!

Connor takes great pleasure in doing things that Hank would call "rude." He loves to watch people, doing their own things, trying to achieve their own goals. 

He loves to eavesdrop. 

In fact, he's doing it right now. 

He'd heard Gavin's voice, awkward, and a little bit vulnerable from the breakroom and Connor had followed it like a siren's call. He'd actually been avoiding Gavin (it's been a tough three days), but hearing him talk had broken his resolve nearly instantly. He stood outside the walkway, out of Gavin and Officer Miller's line of sight, just listening to Gavin's voice. They aren't speaking loudly, a comfortable level of noise. Connor's eyes close.

"Maybe..." Connor hears Gavin sigh, it's almost growl-like and to-his-shame, sends a shiver down Connor's spine. There's a long pause, and Connor almost reaches for his tie before remembering it non-existence. "Androids are. Equal. To... humans." That made Connor's eyebrows raise. What conversation had he decided to eavesdrop on, exactly?

"Yeah?" Officer Miller's foot taps against a leg of the table, a soft metal 'cling.' "And...?"

"And." And? "I'm in love with one." Gavin's in love with an android? Connor's heart sinks, he can feel a frown slide onto his face.

"Finally decided to fucking tell me, huh." Gavin's voice rises a pitch or two, and Connor can hear the scrape of his chair, barely. Miller clucks his tongue.

"Wha-what do you mea-" 

Officer Miller's voice lowers.

"Connor?" He jumps at the sound of his name, afraid he's been caught for a moment before realizing he was being spoken of, not spoken to. "I'm not stupid, Gavin. You're my best friend, and you've been checkin' out his android ass for months now." Gavin. For months? Gavin loves him? Gavin's loved him for _months_? Connor can feel his face flush at the realization. He's sure Gavin's cheeks are red as tomatoes, and he wants to see, wants to look, but wouldn't dare stop their dialogue now.

"Fuck you, I have not-" Gavin starts off confident, unsuccessfully, and Connor knows (is delighted beyond belief) that what Officer Miller said is true.

"Dude, you _have_! I don't know how he hasn't caught on!" He's unsure how he hasn't caught on as well. 

"Fuckin', maybe, he kinda fuckin' has. In a way." Does Gavin intend on telling Officer Miller of their moment together?

"What do you mean 'in a wa-" Connor doesn't hear the rest, a large hand clasps his shoulder. His eyes snap open and Hank is beside him, a speculative look on his face.

"The hell're you doin', kiddo?" 

"Wha-? I'm simply standing outside of the breakroom. For no clear reason, Hank." Hank immediately leans and peeks into the breakroom. Connor grimaces, seeing that Hank's expression has gone a bit dark.

"You want me to deal with that prick for you?" What?

"Huh? Why?" What is he talking about? Hank's brows furrow.

"Do you... not want to go into the breakroom?" Oh. He thought Connor didn't want to go into the breakroom because of Gavin, which is... kind of right, but he's not scared of Gavin... in that way. He's glad Hank hasn't caught on.

"I- no, but, thank you, Hank." Connor almost sighs in relief before the breath is sucked right back in.

"Wait, then why the fuck're you out _here_ for?" Hank looks away and, instantly, Connor realizes he's about to reveal their presence. His arm shoots out but Hank steps into the doorway before Connor can stop him. His hand is on Hank's jacket and is the only thing visible from Gavin's position. The conversation between Gavin and Officer Miller has stopped entirely. Hank's eyes are on him, confusion, and the beginning of understanding woven into his features. 

Shit. 

He releases Hank's jacket, pauses, before stepping beside Hank in the doorway. He pushes his voice out, hoping it doesn't give anything away, knows it's futile.

"Hello, Officer Miller... Detect-" Oh, dear. He thinks he just _wants_ to say "Gavin," but no. He just hasn't spoken to Gavin in three days, hasn't had a reason to address him by name.

_He can't say it._

"Detective Reed" won't come out of his mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> but "detective reed" might be... coming in it smtime soon, asdahsfdshf
> 
> hank, standing over gavin's maimed body: wow. this is so sad. connor, play despacito
> 
> whenever connor is being dad-cornered by hank, he always addresses him by name after every sentence...


	25. you, shut up.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> betcha didn't think it could get more awkward, huh...
> 
> u would be wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> phew, i was tired as shit yesterday, conked out soon as I hit the pillow :-)

"-why the fuck're you out _here_ for?" Lieutenant Anderson's voice is suddenly audible to Gavin as he steps into the doorway of the breakroom, before a blur of white, black and blue snatches his sleeve. Chris stops talking.

Gavin can't see Connor's face, just his forearm and hand, twisted in Anderson's jacket. Had he heard them talking? Connor lets go, slowly, becoming completely invisible for a moment, before stepping under the walkway beside the lieutenant. His face is unnaturally calm in a way that makes it obvious how un-calm he is. He's tieless (it's in Gavin's pocket still, he hasn't worked up the nerve to give it to Connor, especially since he's been fucking radio silent) and the thought makes sweat bead at his temple. Gavin chances a glance at Chris, knowing that he's probably losing his shit. Chris lets air out of his mouth in a 'psht' before he sucks in his lips.

"Hello, Officer Miller." A pause. "Detect-." Connor freezes, the un-cool expression on his face not leaving as his mouth opens and closes. His jaw goes slack. Is he ok? Forget to charge up or some shit like that? Gavin hears his name in almost slow-motion, and it's like his heart stops.

"Gavin." The attempt at calm in Connor is gone, replaced with self-surprise and embarrassment. His cheeks are instantly blue, and if they were alone Gavin thinks he would have liked to kiss them. But, alas. His own cheeks heat and Anderson's head snaps to him, then Connor, then back to him, an unreadable expression on his face. Connor quickly turns his face away from Anderson, up to a vent in the ceiling, and Chris lets out another short laugh, absolutely not on purpose, Gavin knows he just can't help himself in times like these. 

"Connor..." The lieutenant tosses an accusatory hand in Gavin's direction. " _Gavin?_ " Gavin has no clue what the fuck he's trying to say, but the disdain in Anderson's voice when he says his name has him insulted, and Gavin instinctively clicks his tongue.

"I. Hank." Connor says the lieutenant's name in an exasperated sigh, and turns away from the ceiling, face still incredibly, adorably, blue, but now with a sort-of determination in his warm brown eyes. " _Yes._ " Yes? Yes to what? What the fuck are they talking about? Gavin's curiosity and annoyance in not being included in the conversation overrules his gut telling him that he should probably keep his mouth shut and just let Connor and Hank talk.

"I'm right fuckin' here, you know?" The lieutenant's fingers snap and he's pointing in Gavin's direction, not looking at him.

"You, shut up." A short, offended noise comes from the back of Gavin's throat and Chris lets out an ugly laugh beside him. Anderson's voice lowers an octave. "Connor... do you...?" ...Does Connor _what_? His eyes meet Gavin's for a moment, (and fuck, Gavin could _really_ kiss him right now) before looking up into the lieutenant's.

"Yes. I think so, Hank." Anderson goes speechless, looking at Connor, his eyes filled with fascination. There's a silence between the four of them and Chris looks over at Gavin for a moment, in pity, before speaking up.

"What exactly are y'all talking about if you don't mind me asking?" He speaks as if he knows the answer, like he's asking solely for Gavin's benefit. Connor answers, eyes on Gavin, the flush in his cheeks still there, just barely.

"I think... I like Gavin." Gavin's heart just-about stops right in his fucking chest. Elation, pure fucking elation, courses through him. 

He tries not to focus on the "I think."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i love.... drama....
> 
> PLS WATCH THIS YALL IM IN FUCKING TEArs
> 
> http://meltingangels.tumblr.com/post/175312315228/el-loco-14xd-webhead-png-idk-this-is-my
> 
> IM DYING,,,, chris is a bitch who lives for drama, and gavin is... dramatic... hank is jus tryna wrap his head around connor bein in love w a whole asshole... smh his head
> 
> ALSO,... can't wait to get back to the smut... all this fuckin plot development is alright, but i love bein self-indulgent and I wanna see connor and gavin FUCK, sigh....
> 
> (i'll hit u w another chapter in a bit)


	26. mission failed, i suppose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> who give a shit LOOK AT THIS 
> 
> https://pan-in-the-sky.tumblr.com/post/175117644899/reupload-fanart-of-narcophilias-connorgavin
> 
> i'm cryin, i love u, pan ♥♥♥

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am pissed,,, bc i had this whole chapter typed out at 1:19 AM, but when I went to turn down my screens brightness. I forgot to press the fn button and just pressed f5. smh my fuckin HEADDDD AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
> 
> all that fucking work, gone.
> 
> hope u enjoy! :-)

" _Gavin?_ " Hank says this despairingly, his hand gesturing toward Gavin, like one might gesture toward a trashcan, or a crying baby. Connor could hear a 'As in the dickhead who hasn't been good to you since day one?' trail behind.

"I. Hank." His eyes lock with Hank's. Connor had a feeling that Hank wasn't going to approve of... whatever it is he has with Gavin, if it's anything at all. He hopes desperately that it's something. " _Yes._ " 

"I'm right fuckin' here, you know?" Yes. Gavin, with his needlessly aggressive tones when speaking with the Lieutenant. Gavin, with the empty insults he throws Connor's way. No, they weren't _empty_ , they were simply filled with something different, something fond, something _Gavin_.

Hank snaps his fingers, not looking at Gavin, and leaves his hand up for a second to point. "You, shut up." This wouldn't have annoyed Connor a week ago, but it manages to graze a nerve now. "Connor... do you...?" Like him? Yes. He does, alarmingly. So much has changed in only a few days, and Connor isn't sure how he's supposed to act. He's never felt this way before, to want be vulnerable, to want ~~someone~~ Gavin to be vulnerable with him. 

"Yes. I think so, Hank." Connor can feel Hank's eyes boring holes into his head, but he's too busy watching Gavin. 

Officer Miller pipes up, and Connor had honestly forgotten he was there, only reminded by his seemingly random bursts of laughter.

"What exactly are y'all talking about if you don't mind me asking?" Connor almost doesn't want to answer, but the look on Gavin's face, the curiosity, the utter fascination, pulls the words right out of his mouth.

"I think." No, he needs to restart the sentence. Connor doesn't think, he knows. "I like Gavin." He's said it. Out loud. 

Speaking his feelings, to the person whom it concerns, is a bit frightening for Connor, especially as he doesn't know if Gavin feels the same way. What if this is just experimentation for him? Maybe not with men, but certainly he's never had _android_ before. The thought makes Connor feel a bit sick. 

It _was_ experimentation for Connor, but not _just_ , not by any means. Yes, the past three nights had been filled with memories of Gavin's touch, but more than anything, Connor just wanted to _talk_ to Gavin again, to have him not hate him. He wanted Gavin to like him, and smile with him, _and_ touch him.

 _What if Gavin doesn't feel the same way?_

"I... uh. Fuck." He watches Gavin glance at Hank, before his eyes slide back to Connor. His stomach sinks. This doesn't sound like promising start. 

Officer Miller sighs and stands, his chair squealing on the linoleum. He sighs.

"Ok, goodbye. As much as I wanna hear y'all talk about this-" He sets a hand on Hank's shoulder, guiding him out of the breakroom. "I don't." Hank protests for a second before Miller fixes him with a look, before dragging him out the doorway. Connor hears Hank say a "fuckin' Reed of all the fuckin' people in this precinct." and Miller respond with a "shit's funny like that." before they're out of earshot.

He turns back to Gavin, who jumps, unnoticeable to anyone who isn't Connor. 

"Are you scared, Gavin?" There's a pit in Connor's stomach that won't fill.

"No! I just." Gavin stops. Doesn't start again, and the pit grows wider. The strange distance between them suddenly becomes unbearable, and Connor steals the seat previously taken by Officer Miller. He sets his hands on the table, ignoring the urge to fiddle with his coin. Connor's eyes are burning and he blinks away the feeling before speaking. Talk about something else, take the pressure away from Gavin.

"I'm sorry for avoiding you these past three day days, I didn't want Hank to find out and harm you in any way." Connor pauses, and forces a smile. He's not very good at that. "Mission failed, I suppose." He's trying for a joke, but it's falling short, everything's falling short and it's making him positively _ill_. Gavin's not speaking, Gavin's not speaking. He tries for another topic, something lighter, but the very opposite comes out of his mouth. His voice is small and raspy, and he doesn't want to sound like this.

"Should I not have asked to kiss you?" He asks the question and he doesn't mean to, but his voice breaks on 'kiss'. His eyes are tingling, and it _hurts_ , he bites back the urge to press his palms into them, something to ease the ache. A sharp exhale from Gavin, a hiss, and his hand darts from his coffee mug to grab Connor's, palm-to-palm.

"Connor. Fuck." His eyes finally pull from the table to meet Connor's and the ache in his chest instantly lessens. "No. I'm just- It's hard for me to talk about shit that's... important." He breathes. "I haven't... been in a relationship with feelings _ever_." He looks away from Connor, a scowl on his lips. "It's all been just quick-fucks, and I've always kept myself distant, and fuck, it's just..." Connor can hear the rest of the sentence. " _I can't_." But Gavin doesn't say them out loud. 

"It's okay." Connor doesn't know why he's saying this, because it's not. Something's threatening to spill over, but Connor isn't sure what.

"No, no, Connor." Gavin squeezes Connor's hand and it's reassuring, but it isn't close to enough. "Connor, listen, I'm saying I wanna try. I've just. I've never been... together with someone-" He sucks in a breath, and it feels like Connor's being pulled from a deep, dark well with each word that falls from his mouth.

" _But I wanna try with you._ "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> smh have to rewrite my notes and everything... got dammit.....
> 
> wtf, this turned out a lil angsty???? jus a lil but still goddamn
> 
> LISTEN... i think after this i might try a little reed900 bc CONSIDER THIS... bottom!gavin... sub!gavin... a slower transition to Love, a heightened focus on FWB... mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm, maybe even longer chapters w mixed povs!
> 
> ALSO, I was thinking about doing a convin au fic, bc MMMM (also i haven't seen any!), y'all should hmu w au ideas!! i'd love to hear them!


	27. an attempt at erotic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope yall enjoy!

"Should I not have asked to kiss you?" 

Connor's voice breaks and it feels like Gavin's been fucking shot. Is Connor gonna cry? No, no, no, shit, he's such a fucking asshole. He grabs Connor's hand, just wanting to hold him, to know that he's real. 

"Connor. Fuck." Gavin's eyes yank from the table to meet Connor's and he sees the red in the corner of his vision turn yellow for a moment. "No. I'm just-" _the worst. I'm terrible. All I think about is myself. I can't even fucking tell you I love you. I'm not sure if I ever will._ "It's hard for me to talk about shit that's... important." Gavin forgets he needs to breathe. "I haven't... been in a relationship with feelings ever." He can't talk about meaningless sex when looking into Connor's eyes. "It's all been just quick-fucks, and I've always kept myself distant, and fuck, it's just..." _God, I don't wanna disappoint you. Not you._

Fuck, Gavin's heart's gonna beat right out his fucking chest. 

"It's okay." Connor blurts it out, like he doesn't wanna hear what Gavin has to say, like it's painful, and Gavin instantly knows that Connor's not understanding what he's trying to say. Like he thinks Gavin's trying to let him down easy.

"No, no, Connor." Gavin squeezes Connor's hand, hoping that it's comforting. "Connor, listen, I'm saying I wanna try. I've just. I've never been... together with someone-" _I don't want to disappoint you. I don't want to disappoint you._

"But I wanna try with you." Fuck, he's said it. Not even near the confession he wants, he doesn't say one fucking "I love you (so much it's killing me)," but at least he's made it clear he wants to be with Connor, and that was hard enough as is.

Connor is frozen, his LED settles on yellow, an improvement. "You want to be in a relationship with me, Gavin?" And Gavin feels a bit embarrassed, doesn't understand why Connor's asking him twice, when he sees the hope in his brown eyes. He has to answer. Needs to fucking answer.

"Yeah. I wanna-" Ok, he started confident, so he guesses that fucking counts. His voice suddenly drops to an almost-mumble. "Be with you. Fucking obviously."

Connor smiles and it's small, but so definitely real, compared to the one he tried before. He doesn't speak, just squeezes Gavin's hand, his LED finally returning to blue. After a moment, he's cheeks tinge blue, and his head cocks. The action reminds Gavin of a puppy.

"Gavin, I want to kiss you." Everything Connor says manages to knock the wind out of him. Fuck, he wants to kiss him too, obviously, but they're in the middle of the precin-

"Yeah, go ahead, just a quick peck though." Where does his mouth get off on not being connected with his brain? What right does his mouth have?

Connor's smile isn't open-mouthed, but it grows, a certain light entering his eyes, as he leans in, his free hand using Gavin's knee for support. His lips, fuck they're so soft, press against Gavin's and it feels like he's caving in, but in the best way. He can feel Connor laugh slightly against his mouth, there's barely any humor in it (more _want_ , really), his breath ghosting, and he leans back into his chair. Gavin instantly wishes they were fucking alone. Connor's hand leaves Gavin's thigh, reluctantly, before he speaks.

"That was too short." Connor rubs a thumb over the back of Gavin's hand. "'Pecks' are insufficient, Gavin." Gavin doesn't know what to say to that, just knows he agrees, but they probably shouldn't go any further in the precinct, or Gavin's gonna have a problem on his hands (rhymes with direction). Time to think of Literally Anything Else.

"I uh... I have your tie." Yes, spectacular way to ruin the mood. He reaches his hand into his back pocket, and fishes out the tie. Connor stares at it for a moment, starts to reach for it, before his eyes light up. His hand settles back in his lap and he looks Gavin in the eye before speaking.

"No, you don't." What? Gavin doesn't understand. "You _don't_ have my tie." It's. Right fucking there. In his hand. On display. "You've left it at your home, and I am free... Friday to come pick it up. You are... also free." Oh. This sly bastard.

"I guess the fuck I am, then." Connor cups his hand over Gavin's (the one with the tie) and presses it down into Gavin's lap, and Gavin's gonna have a "direction" problem, if Connor keeps this up.

"I guess the fuck you are." Connor says it all coy, and it's sexy and all, but Gavin can't not gasp at the language.

"You just fucking sweared! Is that allowed?" Gavin watches Connor physically wilt, a sigh passing his lips.

"Gavin. I am attempting being erotic, and you're managing to make this a difficult task. Besides, the correct word is 'swore.'" Connor's frowning, but his eyes betray his lips. His LED goes yellow for a moment. 

"Sorry, I just got a text from Hank. We have a case." His eyes meet Gavin's and he smiles again, before tapping at the Gavin's jacket pocket. "May I?" Gavin doesn't know what he's asking but he's just about willing to do anything if Connor wants it done. He stuffs the tie in his back pocket again before grabbing his phone from his jacket and handing it to Connor.

When his phone touches Connor's hand, his LED goes yellow then back to blue, and Gavin's watching him, wondering what he's doing. Connor's sitting still, his eyes on Gavin, like he's waiting for something. A small laugh escapes Connor.

"Gavin, I'm done. You can take your phone back." Oh, he was waiting for Gavin to grab his phone from his hand. His cheeks warm minutely and Connor smiles apologetically. "Sorry, I didn't make it clear that I was done. I've put my number into your phone, so if you ever need anything, you can call or text me at this number." He squeezes Gavin's hand one last time before letting go. Gavin immediately misses the contact. 

Connor stands, smiling, and Gavin's heart is warmed. He wishes, absently, that he could frame this moment. 

"See you on Friday, Gavin." 

He can't fucking wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> feels corny, feels organic, thank you.
> 
> smh, connor sweared, i'm disappointed in him...


	28. brought eachother to orga-

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank is..... fatherly...

Connor’s legs feel a bit strange as he heads to the spot where Hank usually parks his car, like there’s an untapped energy in them, ready to spill over. 

Oh. He wants to jump, maybe? For joy? Yes, that’s it. He refrains from jumping, not like anyone from the precinct would criticize him for a simple show of excitement, but he didn’t want to risk it. Android-human relations weren’t very tense at the precinct, which is pleasant, although it still seems like a fragile peace to Connor.

He and Gavin are... together now. Connor had to ask twice, some human compulsion to be sure he heard right, even when there’s no physical way he could have heard wrong. Connor isn’t incredibly sure what being together means for him and Gavin. 

Will they hold hands in public? Or will they be private? Will they go on dates? Will they get married? Connor’s muttering quietly, vaguely registers his own thinking-mumbling as speech.

He finally spots Hank’s car, feeling a drop of dread, which seems a bit of a overstatement. Havin Hank hear his confession had made Connor feel... light again, and having Gavin confirm that they were _together_ made him feel something close to invincible.

Hank is in the passengers seat for a reason unclear to Connor, but he sits in the drivers seat anyways. Hank doesn’t speak until they’re on the road, but Connor knows he’s not giving him “the cold shoulder” or anything, he’s just thinking of how to word whatever it is exactly he’s thinking of saying.

“Is there a reason you’re not driving, Hank? Not that I mind.” 

“Thought it’d be better to ask-” _interrogate_ “-you where I can actually look at you, and not have to keep my eyes on the road.” So he was sitting in the passenger’s seat solely for the sake of analyzing Connor’s reactions to his questions. 

Connor doesn’t necessarily have anything to hide, but the prospect of a superior detective like Hank analyzing his reactions somehow makes him a bit fearful. Maybe he _did_ have something to hide... he just doesn’t know it yet. 

“Also, I can see your LED, so I’ll know if you’re fuckin’ fibbin’.” Connor is fully aware he has a tell, even if it happens to slip his mind sometimes. Hank pointed it out to him once when he was trying to choose a shirt for his niece’s wedding and asked for Connor’s opinion ( _“It looks very nice, Lieutenant, not outdated by any means, very... stylish.”_ ) It’s... inconvenient, to say the least, even when he doesn’t lie very often in the first place.

He realizes now that Hank must’ve instantly known he was lying when they were outside of the breakroom. Hm. Connor doesn’t hate being easy-to-read, but there are times when it’s less than ideal.

“Alright, Hank. I promise I will not ‘fib.’” He takes one hand away from the wheel, extending a pinkie in Hank’s direction. It’s immediately wrapped in a more calloused one. Hank makes like their fingers are bouncing off an unseen trampoline before letting go.

“Okie-fuckin-dokie, kid.” They sit in silence for a minute and Connor wonders if perhaps the lieutenant is psyching him out.

“Hank?” He spares a quick glance to the passengers side.

“Gimme a fuckin’ second to think of-“ Hank sighs through his teeth, seemingly in defeat. “How Long have you and Gavin _fuckin’_ Reed been uhhhh. An item?”

“Since approximately twelve minutes ago. He confirmed that he would like to pursue a relationship together with me.”

“Yeah, but I mean. How long has- uh.” He makes an indescribable notion with his hands (almost as if he were playing a non-existent piano, but vertical) before continuing and Connor doesn’t know what to make of it. “- _this_ been goin’ on?”

“Since we handled the Eden Club homicide together Sunday evening, three days ago.” Connor has decided to be forthcoming with details. “I went to his home, and we had a few alcoholic beverages. After that we kissed and-“ Hank makes a noise that has the same spirit of a child going ‘lalalala, I can’t hear you, lalalala.’ It’s annoying and disruptive and Connor is forced to stop talking. 

“I’m simply answering your questions to the fullest of my abilities, Hank, yet you interrupt me when I’m being descriptive.”

“Listen, asshole, I don’t wanna hear about you and Gavin smashin’ in an enclosed box going speeds too high to fuckin’ jump out of so-“

“Sorry, Hank, but Gavin and I didn’t have intercourse, we simply brought eachother to orga-“ Connor is entirely aware he’s being a little shit.

“I’ll jump out of the fuckin’ car right now, don’t test me, son.” Hank says this, deadpan, and Connor can’t stop a laugh from escaping him. He looks over at Hank, pleased at his small prank, a smile on his lips.

“You won’t.” 

“... You’re right. I’m too old for that shit.” Hank turns toward the window and Connor looks back at the road. There’s a comfortable silence and Connor lets it run, his thoughts starting to head toward ‘Gavin territory’ again, before Hank speaks again, disapproval clear-as-day.

“I don’t trust him, Connor.” 

“I know you don’t, Hank.” Connor can feel his jaw tensing, he hopes he’s not coming off as abrasive. He has a feeling his LED is yellow. “I don’t expect you to approve of him so suddenly. He treated me unfairly before and during the Android Revolution and his past actions could have caused detrimental harm to me and the revolution itself.”

“But, Hank. I’m not sure when, exactly, but he’s changed. He hasn’t apologized for his actions, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he did, and I feel as though that says something.” His eyes are on the road, and Hank clears his throat, either in discomfort or because he’s just recovered from illness, Connor isn’t sure.

“If he hurts you, just tell me and I’ll break his fucking legs. No questions asked.” Connor’s eyes are burning, but it’s different than before, less of an ache and more like a warning. Happiness threatens to spill out of his eyes. Well, not just threatens.

“Thanks, Dad.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feels good. Feels familial. Thank u.
> 
> ALSO hhhhhh Connor Respects Hank’s Deductive Skills So Much


	29. don't push your fucking luck.

"We need to talk," Gavin could hear a restrained " _prick_ " follow behind Anderson's words.

Gavin was too busy watching Connor, his hand going white as he pressed his fingers to his terminal, to notice the lieutenant had even walked up to his desk.

"Wha-?" The word's half out of his mouth before Anderson interrupts.

"I said we need to talk." The " _prick_ " repeats, still unsaid. Gavin realizes in this moment that he's been far too caught up in the fact that he and Connor were gonna be starting a relationship, and not caught up far enough in the fact that Hank knows everything. If Gavin were being honest, he'd completely forgotten about Anderson, his mind too busy imagining all the possible ways the dynamic could change (and all the ways it could go wrong and he could disappoint Connor, all the ways he could _hurt_ him.) 

Anderson doesn't wait for a response, turns away from Gavin's desk, takes a few steps, before turning back, annoyance coloring his voice. "You comin' or what, Reed?"

Gavin jumps up, his chair's wheels squealing as he pushes forward. "Yeah, yeah, 'm comin'." His voice manages to sound less worried-out-of-his-fuckin-shit than he feels.

They walk in silence, Gavin following Hank, for a few moments before Gavin realizes where they're headed. His tongue clicks off the roof of his mouth. A quiet laugh escapes Anderson.

"What? Not a fan of interrogation, Reed?" No. Not really, but then again, who is? Gavin doesn't respond, and Hank presses his hand against the scanner. The door opens, letting the two in. Gavin feels like he's in the principal's office the moment he steps in.

"Take a seat." Gavin sits in the Criminal's Chair, furthest from the door. The lieutenant walks to the chair, but doesn't sit in it, opting to sit on the table, to the left of Gavin. A powermove that Gavin's employed more than once. Gavin sweats under his jacket, wondering exactly where all this is going.

"I'm gonna say this once." Gavin is all fucking ears. "Connor's like- Connor _is_ a son to me." The statement itself doesn't surprise Gavin, but the fact that the lieutenant actually _said it_ does. He wonders for a moment if Connor is fully aware how loved he is. Gavin's given a moment to be a bit envious before Anderson leans over him, who already fucking towers over Gavin when they're standing. Now it's just ridiculous. 

"If you hurt him." Gavin tries to be confident that he won't hurt Connor, but his resolve falters a bit under the lieutenants pressure. Will Gavin hurt Connor? He's a disappointment. He always has been. He'll disappoint Connor, he's sure of it, but he doesn't want to, would rather die than hurt him- "You fuckin' won't." Anderson says this menacingly, but somehow Gavin feels a bit comforted. "I'm not fuckin' joking. I will make your days at this precinct a living hell until you or I keel-the-fuck-over." Gavin knows Hank's not joking, but he can only think of a mama-bear protecting her cubs.

The thought brings a smirk to his face, which doesn't go over incredibly well with the lieutenant. Gavin decides to interrupt (with a sort of atahtahtat-! sound) before he's murdered in the second degree.

"Alright!" He raises his hands, hoping it looks like genuine defeat. "Alright, I get it. Hurt Connor, get hurt, I'm not fuckin' stupid, Anderson." Gavin knows that last part was a little unnecessary, but he already said it, so fuck. Anderson's eyes narrow for a moment, but he doesn't say anything, his jaw setting.

"He likes you, asshole." Anderson says it in a sort of disbelief, and Gavin's heart sings for a moment before the lieutenant stands, heading to the door as he talks, words getting weightier. "Don't push your fucking luck," He presses his hand to the scanner, doesn't look behind him. 

"I won't let you hurt him a second time."

~~~

Gavin thinks about Connor all day until he’s in bed, lids too heavy to keep open.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> notice how hank held back his insults almost the whole time... mature king...
> 
> also, sorry for bein a bit absent for a few days!!! work's been A Lot, but whatevs! can't wait to write friday!!!


	30. you're a changed man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> time skip bitch!!! i've been impatient for friday so here... we are.

It's Friday, 3:59 PM, and Connor has already been to Gavin's before, but somehow, arriving alone, without said Gavin, has his thirium pumping.

The journey up the stone stairs to Gavin's apartment feels different by himself. The soft thud of his feet against cement unaccompanied by the detective's grumbling ("the fuck're my keys?") this time. He wonders for a moment how he'll approach. One knock? Or Two? Gavin doesn't have a bell. Maybe Connor could text him? He did have his number now, even though he hadn't made use of it.

Hm. He supposes he'll try a text, but what to say. _Here._ Too short. _Gavin, I'm at your door._ ...Mildly creepy _Hello, Gavin, I'm here._ That seems fine enough. A bit bland, but sufficient. He can't think of anything better now that he's standing Right There.

**Connor: Hello, Gavin, I'm here.**

**Connor: In front of your door.** He compulsively adds the last part.

 **Gavin: K** One letter. 

After a moment Connor can faintly hear Gavin's feet pad across the carpet through the door. A lock unlatches, the scrape of metal against metal, and suddenly Gavin's there and Connor feels a bit breathless (he can't help but feel betrayed by his own programming _allowing_ him to even _be_ breathless) at the sight of him. A 'hello' passes his lips.

Gavin's jacketless, (which should make sense because this is his home and why would he wear a jacket inside his own apartment) his unusually un-layered torso clad in a black tee, half-tucked into heather-grey sweatpants. He's not wearing shoes, and it's all Connor can think about for a solid minute. 

Connor himself had decided to go a bit casual himself, by his standards, still wearing a white button-up, no jacket, and some simple black slacks Hank had gotten him when he moved in (Hank suggested he rolled them up once or twice, and he obliged, pale ankles peeking.) He wondered what Gavin thought of his hand at fashion. Connor was confident in his appearance when he stepped out of the house, but now that he was at Gavin's door, it slipped from him. Did he look weird?

A look crosses Gavin's face (Connor identifies it as intrigue), before being replaced by a smirk. "What, not wearing a three-piece suit today?" He likes it. Connor can feel the insecurity drain from him and the corners of his mouth raise. He decides to be a bit flirty, now that he's been validated.

"No, that would have been too much to take off." He pauses, looking up in faux-innocence, considers winking. "If the need arises." He hears Gavin click his tongue, observing that he does that a lot (a cute habit to Connor, he could probably find him in a room of crowded people if he just clicked that tongue), before shifting his eyes from the doorframe back to the detective. Gavin's cheeks are a subdued shade of red, and the sight makes Connor's stomach twist in a strange and unsatisfiable way. Are these what "butterflies" are supposed to be? Connor wants to kiss him, but Gavin steps out of the doorway, further into his apartment, before he has the chance. 

"The hell'd Cyberlife program a tease?" Gavin mumbles, barely audible, and Connor smiles. He steps into Gavin's apartment, can't help the urge to poke fun at Gavin. Well, he can, he just doesn't want to.

"To say I'm a tease would insinuate that I won't actually do it." Gavin's head snaps to him, eyes a bit wide, and Connor feels an eyebrow lift. Every reaction Gavin gives Connor reaffirms his feelings for the detective. Gavin's mouth opens and closes before he speaks. 

"Let's, uh, let's get your fuckin' tie then?" Connor could care less about his tie, would care more if Gavin wasn't part of the equation, but he follows Gavin to his bedroom anyways. He hadn't got a look at it the last time he was here, and he was excited to record what he might find. 

The decor's on the bare side, which is a little surprising, he has photo-frames with the pictures of the model family that they come with and two tour posters lining the grey-toned walls. Connor identifies his bed as a king-size, covered in a soft-looking thin dark-grey comforter, and wonders for a moment how often Gavin must masturbate on it... He should probably put that train of thought on pause, but instead puts it on the back burner.

Connor was right about his tie being on Gavin's dresser, neatly folded, the hexagonal pattern barely visible in the lowlight of the room. Gavin's half-facing him, his eyes on the tie and everything's in slow-motion for Connor. Gavin's lashes, a bit on the short side, descending, ascending, his eyes (striking) slowly turning to him, as he reaches for Connor's tie.

Connor wants to kiss him again... and what's stopping him, exactly? Their feelings are affirmed, and Connor likes kissing Gavin. Connor snatches Gavin’s wrist, mid-tie-grab.

“May I kiss you?” He doesn't mean for it to come out so abrupt, so desperate, and he feels a twang of embarrassment. Gavin's cheeks flush and a look akin to a deer in the headlights crosses his face.

"Uh, yeah, but-" Connor jumps to kiss him before he can finish, clumsy, kissing the stubble on Gavin's upper lip first, nose mashing with Gavin's, both their hands entwined at Gavin's hip. They're still standing (the height difference between them more apparent like this) and Connor wants _more_ than a "peck." He starts to guide Gavin toward the bed, and suddenly they aren't kissing anymore. 

"I- fuck, Connor," His tone has Connor on edge, worry, pity. Does he not want to kiss Connor? Does he not want to _be with him_? "Listen, maybe we're moving too fast," For him? Or for Gavin? Connor doesn't understand.

"What do you mean?" Their hands are still intertwined, and Connor doesn't intend on letting go, not that Gavin's making a move to anyways.

"It's just-" Gavin's free hand reaches up to his neck and squeezes before letting go and sliding back down to his side. His eyes meet Connor's. "I've treated you like shit. Recently." Gavin's bottom lip goes into his mouth and Connor wishes it was in his. "It just- it just doesn't feel right for me to expect you to just forgive me, and forget about all the shit I did when I-"

"Gavin. If you want to take this slow, that's fine." He squeezes the hand in his, hoping to assure, but the unchanged worry on Gavin's face tells him he's failed. He keeps talking. "But I've already forgiven you, weeks, no, _months_ ago. I'm physically incapable of forgetting, and I don't intend to but-" He's interrupted.

"It just feels like I'm abusing your trust," Gavin blurts, his eyebrows curve into subtle 'u's. "It's like." He sighs. Connor can feel Gavin's hand clench, watches his jaw set. "You should fucking hate me for what I did. But you don't and-" Gavin doesn't get it, Connor can see it on his face, too stubborn to understand that Connor's already forgiven him, that this conversation is pointless. It's frustrating.

"And I never did. You were simply an obstacle between me and my mission, Gavin. I was a _machine_." Connor's glad his voice hasn't shaken once, even though it threatens to. "How do you not understand that we've both changed?"

"Even if you were, I still-" Connor wishes Gavin'd stop arguing with him about his own feelings.

"Gavin, the fact that we're even having this conversation tells me that you're-" _a changed man._

" _I'm sorry._ " He interrupts, and it feels like he's screamed it. A second passes and his voice goes quiet, and Connor's frustration melts into... _something else_. Gavin's hand unclenches, his shoulders stoop. "I'm sorry, Connor." Gavin's not looking at him, his eyes on the floor, and Connor hates it.

"Look at me." He doesn't. Connor brings his free hand to cup Gavin's cheek, and turns his face up. Gavin's eyes reluctantly pull to Connor's, finally. Connor wonders what he sees, what makes him think that he could be anything close to hateful towards Gavin at this point.

"I've already forgiven you, Gavin, but I'll say it again. _I forgive you._ " A moment passes and Connor can feel Gavin relax, feels him exhale. He drags a thumb across the tops of Gavin's cheeks and he still wants to kiss him, but in a softer way than before.

So he does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hmmmm, i had not intended for this to get angsty... I just realized that Gavin is... big remorseful 
> 
> finally gonna be off thursday!!! y'all better believe i"ma try to write up a fucking STORM... of smut............ smh
> 
> also... dipdopofthedip (neon blue) an i have been Fucking Talking and she put me onto the song Pony by Ginuwine and now it's canonically a convin bop. smh my goddam HEAD.


	31. i'm sorry.

Gavin has more than thought this over. He’s thought this over maybe a couple thousand times since Hank gave him a talking to. When Connor kissed him, the disgust he had with himself curdled beneath his skin.

"It's just-" _You deserve better._ Gavin’s eyes meet Connor's. "I've treated you like shit. Recently. It just- it just doesn't feel right for me to expect you to just forgive me, and forget about all the shit I did when I-" _haven’t done anything to deserve it._ Connor interrupts.

"Gavin. If you want to take this slow, that's fine." _No._ This isn’t about _him_. He feels Connor squeeze his hand. It eases nothing. "But I've already forgiven you, weeks, no, months ago. I'm physically incapable of forgetting, and I don't intend to but-" He doesn’t fucking understand how terrible Gavin is. How unworthy.

"It just feels like I'm abusing your trust," Connor’s lips separate, curl up. "It's like." He sighs. Connor’s hand is a vice over Gavin’s, it’s a bit painful. "You should fucking hate me for what I did.” _What I could’ve done. What I wanted to do._ “But you don't and-" _I don’t deserve you._

"And I never did. You were simply an obstacle between me and my mission, Gavin. I was a machine.” He doesn’t get it. Connor doesn’t get it. It doesn’t fucking _matter_ if he was a machine or not, Gavin had no right to treat him that way. "How do you not understand that we've both changed?"

"Even if you were, I still-" Gavin’s boiling over. He hasn’t even said _sorry_ for what he did.

"Gavin, the fact that we're even having this conversation tells me that you're-" It’s not enough.

" _I'm sorry_." It tumbles out of his mouth, and his eyes are fucking stinging. His voice is a whisper and he feels like glass. Fuck. “I’m sorry, Connor.”

"Look at me." He can’t. Won’t. He feels a hand slide up, cupping his face, forcing him to look up. His eyes stay down for a moment before he realizes it’s futile. The look on Connor’s face, there’s no hate, just fondness and it’s _revolting_. He doesn’t deserve it.

"I've already forgiven you, Gavin,” God, he’s about to fucking shatter. “but I'll say it again. I forgive you." He feels like a puppet, strings just cut. Distantly, he feels Connor squeeze his hand again. He doesn’t deserve what’s Connor’s giving him, but it’s so fucking tempting to accept it. So tempting to be forgiven and have it be done with, that he can’t help but take it.

Connor's thumb traces a half-moon under Gavin's eye, presses his lips against Gavin’s and it’s so chaste, just lips, and breath, Gavin can’t help but sigh into it. After a moment, Connor pulls back, just enough to speak.

“You understand that it’s not as though I’m getting nothing out of being with you?” He doesn't, but he nods. Connor smiles. “Good. I like talking with you and, it’s not _about_ the physicality, but I definitely like that too." His voice is stern, a bit like he's scolding Gavin. "I _want_ to be with you."

Gavin's guilt eases, but it doesn't fully dissipate, might not ever.

Connor pulls Gavin's lips back to him, and it's different, open-mouthed and moving and Gavin isn't sure if he should follow, but he does. Fuck, he loves kissing Connor. He's so... gentle with Gavin, the hand on his cheek just barely on him, Connor's thumb still grazing the top of his cheek. It's languid and calming and them standing doesn't seem right but them being on the bed seems a bit-

"I just don't wanna- don't wanna jump so fast from- acquaintances to _fucking-_ " His lips are still on Connor's when he speaks. There's a pause before Connor backs up slightly, responds, all concise and enunciated.

"Then we won't," a 'yet' lingers. "We can set the limit at kissing and touching, until we both deem it long enough of a transitional period. I am capable of waiting, Gavin." Gavin nods just barely, his nose rubbing against Connor's. "Well, I wasn't going to touch you today anyways," Connor chances a glance downward, smug. "as that would make this experience a lot shorter than I would like it to be." Gavin sputters, mildly insulted, but not actually offended.

"Excuse me?" He sounds incredibly defensive. "You just- you caught me at a bad time!" Connor didn't catch him at a bad time. But he's average! He's not in the fucking Olympics for holding out or anything, but he's not _that_ sensitive! Connor meets his eyes again and smiles.

"Is that so?" He connects their lips again, husky voice vibrations tickling Gavin's lips.

" _Prove it to me, then._ "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is such a Take Me To Church by Hozier chapter.... smh
> 
> HOOOOOOOOOOOO FINALLY WERE HERE


	32. prove it, then ;-)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ;-)

When Connor kisses Gavin it reminds him of how glad he is to be able to _love_ things. He loves talking dirty to Gavin, simply for his overreactions (hm, perhaps he is a tease.) He loves kissing, loves the feeling of being connected to Gavin.

He thinks he'll tell this to Gavin when he has the chance, but not now. Not when Gavin's trying so hard.

They’re on the bed now, Gavin on top of Connor, peppering his jaw with kisses, eyes half-lidded, lips feverish over Connor’s skin. The way he knows Gavin will respond to his moans overrides the embarrassment at the act. So he does, breathy, Gavin responding almost instantly with a low groan.

Connor made it seem like he was joking earlier, but he honestly intended on not touching Gavin, not until they’ve been at it for a sufficient amount of time, that is. It's a bit difficult to _not_ touch him, if Connor's being honest, especially when he knows he'll get a reaction out of Gavin. Ah, such is the difficult path of having Gavin last for more than a few minutes.

His hand weaves into Gavin's hair and it all feels strange, engaging in intimate acts in (somewhat) broad daylight. Exciting. It's a good kind of strange, sends a tingle under his skin, as Gavin comes off his neck with a pop. His hands fall out of Gavin's hair and Connor has to fight the urge to whine. He's left to wonders for a second if it'll be like this every time. Will he always feel like a limb is being ripped away when Gavin isn't touching him? Gavin says nothing for a moment, but the way his eyes run over Connor's chest makes him warm again. His hands drift over Connor's chest absently, fingertips pressing into his collarbone, and Connor can feel the heat of Gavin's palms through the thin fabric. Gavin clicks his tongue, runs it over his bottom lip.

"Ain't no three-piece, but it's still too fuckin' much," he grumbles, his hands on a mission now, Connor's top four buttons (and himself) come undone. Gavin's hands slide under, skin-to-skin, and come up to his throat, thumbs caressing his jaw. Connor exhales, a bit moany, and Gavin sighs. "You're so damn pretty like this." The praise sends goosebumps up his arms, desire flooding him, spilling out of his mouth.

"Ha," Connor laughs softly, without humor, and his hand slides up Gavin's thigh, pushing up his sweatpants, not quite touching him. It's a struggle to stop himself. He can see the outline of Gavin's dick through his sweatpants, the heat of it radiating through the fabric between them. "I can feel you against me." It slips between his lips, unbidden, and he sounds drunk. Gavin stoops next to Connor's ear, presses his face into the pillow in what Connor assumes is embarrassment. Annoying how Gavin hides his face the moments when Connor wants to see it the most.

"Fuck," It's confirmed, Gavin's very embarrassed, Connor can hear it in his voice, gruff and warm against his ear. "Con." The nickname sends a shiver down his spine, and he slides a free hand up Gavin's back, nails scratching against his nape (Gavin shudders), before sinking back into his hair again. Connor bites his lip and, emboldened, turns his head for better access and nibbles on the tip of Gavin's ear. It's warm in his mouth (gets warmer instantly) and he hears Gavin's breath catch. Tentatively, he runs his tongue over the shell of Gavin's ear, and Gavin exhales against the pillow, the open palm against Connor's neck clenching. He _likes_ it. _Good._ Connor closes his eyes, focusing, lapping at Gavin's skin (he tastes of salt, a hint of soap) a moment longer before biting lightly at the edges. He darts his tongue into the detective's ear, and it's a bit bitter tasting, but it doesn't bother him, he's had a million worse things in his mouth. 

"Hmm," He doesn't mean to make any noise but it comes out anyway. Thinking of how Gavin would let him do something like this without a fight pulls up the corners of his lips, makes him hum in delight.

"Sssshit-" Gavin gasps fully, his hips jerking just slightly against Connor's and he can't suppress a surprised hiss at the sudden grind. He takes Gavin's earlobe between his teeth, applying just enough pressure for it to slip slowly from him. 

Gavin groans, and it's infinitely sexy, but Connor can tell it's out of actual frustration. "Ok, fuck, we're not doin' that," he blurts as he sits up (Connor already misses the taste of him), his cheeks adorably flushed, eyes glazed. Connor's sure he's in the same state. He smiles, lopsided, teasing.

"Hm. Why is that?" Connor already knows, could feel Gavin tensing up, about to come (possibly even seconds away), before he pulled back.

"Oh, fuck off- like you don't already know!" Connor simply smiles in response, illiciting a scoff from Gavin, whose lips find Connor’s neck again, delving a bit lower than before. Connor feels Gavin’a teeth scrape against the thin skin covering his collarbones and he swallows.

Gavin’s lips (kissing) and hands (unbuttoning) work in tandem, his fingers deft over the few buttons Connor had left before he was completely open to Gavin. His touch is ticklish over Connor’s abdomen, light, until Gavin’s lips find his belly button, licks a stripe over him, his fingers pressing into Connor’s hips. The sensation sends electricity through him, and he’s buzzing.

“Lemme suck you off.” Gavin’s voice is rough, almost a growl, more of a demand than anything else, not like Connor would refuse even if it _was_ a question. His hand finds Gavin’s face, and Gavin leans into his palm slightly, lust still apparent in his face, and the sight makes Connor a ridiculous amount of fond. He feels drunk on the feeling, his lips curling of their own volition. 

His eyes lock with Gavin’s, full contact, and he hopes Gavin understands how much he wants to be with him, how much he wants _this_. 

Connor nods, thirium pounding as Gavin moves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gavin is sensitive when it comes to connor, pass it on.
> 
> i love..... commas... and runons smh, when will i learn
> 
> SMH SORRY FOR LEAVIN YALL HANGING CONNOR BOUTTA GET HIS DICK SUCKED


	33. some loving god.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> oh u know, Connor finally gets sucked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y’all... this is the longest chapter i’ve Written, I deserve to have My dick sucked smh

“Lemme suck you off.”

Gavin relishes in the seconds after he speaks, in how thoroughly fucked Connor looks. It sends him over the edge to imagine how he’ll look when Gavin’s mouth is around him.

Connor’s hand, so warm, finds the side of his face, and Gavin closes his eyes, opens them. He leans into it. Connor nods and the approval lights a fire right in Gavin’s chest, spreads over him. He doesn’t wait for the permission to expire.

His lips press against Connor’s belly, drifting lower, soft, thin treasure-trail hairs tickling his lips.

Everything about Connor is soft. Well, except. Just as Connor could feel Gavin, he could feel the android. The growing heat underneath him was what sparked the urge (the need) to have Connor’s dick in his mouth.

He’s not touching it now, making his way slowly, being teasing in the way he’s grown accustomed, plush lips between Connor’s belly button and the waistband of his slacks. Hands warming up his thighs, but not touching him, not yet. He loves this part, the lead-up.

Gavin’s always loved sucking dick. Loved having someone in his mouth, their arousal at his disposal. Loved feeling them get bigger with every suck. Especially loved the swell when a partner was near coming.

He wants desperately for Connor to love it too (to love _him_.) He lingers at Connor’s treasure-trail, waiting for Connor to get impatient more than anything, and he does, huffs a breath, and his hand leaves the sheets, goes to his mouth. Gavin unzips Connor’s slacks and wonders how uncomfortable he was, wearing the unrelenting, thick fabric, when he’s hard like this.

Connor moans (no, he fucking _whimpers_ ) against the back of his hand at the release, pants heavily when Gavin gently palms him through his briefs. Gavin sits up a second, looking into Connor’s half-lidded ( _wanting_ ) eyes as he speaks.

“Take off your pants.” A gentle command, barely said above whisper-level, and Connor complies instantly, bringing his knees up before exposing himself. The sound of clothes hitting the floor fills the room, before being replace by hot breaths. 

Connor is beautiful, in every possible fucking way, the way he looks at Gavin looking at _him_ (his gaze soft and sexy and perpetually questioning) makes Gavin melt, harden, melt again. He’s aware he’s staring for much longer than necessary, can see Connor’s chest flush a light blue under his gaze, and when he finally looks back to the android’s face, he has the gall to smile at Gavin behind his hand. He feels like a pot about to boil over with the feelings he has for this ridiculous, awkward, beautiful android. He has to look somewhere else (not his fucking gentle doe-eyes) and he honestly can’t believe he hasn’t looked at Connor’s dick in all this examination.

Fuck. It’s embarrassing to say (think) but Connor probably has the most beautiful dick in existence. Pale, smooth, the foreskin (is that a freckle?) just barely pulling back from the head. There’s a bead of precome swelling (is it from Gavin _watching_ him?), gravity pulling it down. Gavin’s mouth is suddenly dry.

He chances another glance at Connor, who’s too busy staring at Gavin’s lips to look into his eyes. Connor’s tongue glides across his bottom lip, eyes softening, and before Gavin even thinks about it, he’s kissing Connor again, his thigh pressing a bit against the android’s cock, can feel the wetness seeping through his sweatpants, but doesn’t mind a bit.

Connor exhales into his mouth, and Gavin can feel the front of his shirt fist in Connor’s hand before he releases, his palm flat on Gavin’s chest. Connor’s mouth moves against his for a moment, needy and sweet, before he pulls back barely, lips grazing lips.

“Not to be terribly impatient, but if you don’t suck my dick right now, It’s highly likely I’ll shut down.” It’s said in all seriousness but Gavin sputters into laughter anyways. Connor smiles against his lips, his eyes crinkling and Gavin feels like he’s floating away.

“Oh, yeah?” A quick kiss to Connor’s lips. “You’ll just up an’ die cause your dick’s not in my mouth?”

“To be frank, yes, Gavin.” Connor gives him a kiss this time, takes a quick nibble of Gavin’s lip before dropping his head to the pillow. Something changes in his face, it’s minuscule, and he’s back to being all languid and _scorchingly_ hot. His shirt’s not really covering anything, open, baring Connor and his absolute perfection to Gavin. His lips part a bit, come back together in thought. He speaks softer than a feather over a pillow, his voice cracks a little bit. “Please.”

Gavin sinks back down, almost possessed by Connor’s ‘please’ as he takes the android’s cock in his hand. It’s as soft as it looks, warm in his palm and a quick squeeze makes Connor’s breath catch. He slides his hand to the base, flat against Connor’s groin, and he’s scrutinizing again. Who’s dick is this pretty? How the hell? Ok, obviously it’s because he was made like this instead of thrown into a character creator set to ‘random’ like the rest of humanity, but _fuck_.

 _He’s just so fucking beautiful_. 

Connor’s dick, so perfect in every way, in even it’s flaws, a small freckle or two dotting his foreskin that he hasn’t really gotten in close enough proximity to notice, and _fuck_ , does he notice now.

He’s been holding himself back too long, he’s parched, aching, and his tongue draws to a freckle placed gingerly by some loving god (Elijah Kamski) right on the edge of Connor’s foreskin. He licks Connor from the tip to base, not sucking yet, just exploring.

He tastes like skin and a palatable sweetness (the precome?), which is unusual for Gavin. He’s more used to a bitterish, semi-salty, flavor, not an almost fruity sweetness.

“Ah!” Connor exhales, and his fingers are in his mouth again, barely obstructing Gavin’s view of him. His eyes are screwed shut, cheeks a soft blue hue, and when Gavin adds a bit of suction on the upstroke, his eyebrows furrow delectably.

Gavin takes him further, his nose mushing into Connor’s pubes, which are unfairly uncoarse. He smells like himself, but a bit sweeter, a bit more primal, less clean. Shit. He doesn’t know how he gets harder, but it’s fucking _unbearable_.

It’s been awhile since Gavin’s had something this far down his throat, and it makes his eyes water a bit, but he doesn’t dare stop. He shuts them, losing himself in the rhythm. Quick, loose, on the downstroke, slow, powerful suction on the upstroke. He pays attention to Connor’s twitching thighs, tries to wish down his erection, fails miserably.

Connor’s breathing heavily, occasionally letting out strings of consonants, unconnected to one another, gibberish, and Gavin feels a bit of pride at the thought that his head-game is so good he has Connor speaking in tongues. 

When Gavin finally opens his eyes again to look at him, he finds Connor’s eyes open and on him (his lips apart, letting little noises escape) and fuck he _wants_ to touch himself but he can’t, won’t because he’d made it his mission (ain’t that Connor’s thing?) not to touch himself until Connor comes.

Connor’s hand slips into his hair for the nth time today, and it’s as gentle as the first time, his nails lightly scratching against Gavin’s scalp, comforting. He huffs a moan through his nose, and damnit, he’s not supposed to be getting off quite like this, and it’s a little embarrassing because he _is_. Each knock against the back of his throats sends him over, the sweet taste (it’s Connor, that’s _him_ ) in Gavin’s mouth getting more overwhelming by the second. Connor’s hips jerk, irregular, and his soft, throaty moans are as efficient as a hand for Gavin.

His mouth is around Connor’s dick and he might be the one to come first. Fuck.

“Ha- I-“ The hand in his hair clenches, pulling, and it hurts but it’s _good_. Gavin’s eyes flutter shut at the feeling, and he’s listening to Connor unravel, coming undone himself. “Gavin, I’m- _Gavin_ -“ Connor moans and it’s _his name_ and Gavin’s down for the fucking count. He groans, muffled by Connor’s cock and he _has_ to touch himself, can’t bear it anymore. He puts the barest amount of pressure over his sweatpants and that’s all it takes.

Electricity zings through him, his hips twitching, groans escaping his throat and he hopes for a quarter-second the vibrations make for an even better orgasm for Connor, before he’s sucked back into his own feeling. 

Connor’s coming down his throat and he’s coming in his pants and it’s embarrassing, but perfect, and he’s focusing with all his might not to accidentally bite Connor, to keep sucking, and it’s the most difficult thing in the world, but he’s _doing it_. He knows he’s getting messy, can feel saliva and come dribbling out the side of his mouth, but he’s fucking doing it. 

Connor’s moans devolve into a whimper as Gavin sucks him a few seconds past orgasm, swallowing every drop of the suspiciously tasty liquid, the muscles in his thighs twitching visibly, and when Gavin finally pops off Connor’s dick, he’s about ready to pass out. He makes a last ditch effort to collapse next to Connor instead of on top of him, facedown.

“Fuck-“ He flips himself over before he gets too tired to, not wanting to get come on the bed. He listens to Connor’s breath, heavy and slowing as they lie there. There’s a long silence before Connor speaks, his voice soft and crackly, and Gavin can hear a smile in it.

“You came too,” Connor’s flat on his back, fingertips lazily ghost over the hairs of Gavin’s forearm (who holds his breath at the contact), and he turns a bit, to lay on his side. He’s looking at Gavin, eyes all warm and soft and good and pure and a million and a half other spectacular things and holy fuck, Gavin’s never felt so clean (ignoring his sweatpants) after giving head. 

“I didn’t even touch you and you came-” Gavin groans, positive his cheeks are red, before bitching a bit, no anger behind his words, just embarrassment.

“Fuck off- I get it! I come too fas-“ Connor’s hand wraps around Gavin’s, stopping him.

“I _like_ how sensitive you are.” His thumb drags across Gavin’s hand. “I like thinking that it’s because of me.” His lips curve and Gavin’s heart sings.

His free hand, resting on the edge of the bed, lifts, and he slides it to Connor’s nape, fingers tangling in the curls found there. Gavin pulls him closer, until their foreheads finally thonk together, their noses just barely touching. 

Gavin feels numb, but numb in a way more similar to when a limb that’s fallen asleep “wakes up” than completely unfeeling. He’s buzzing, almost vibrating with this _feeling_ for Connor. 

They kiss, again, soft, and it’s the most _right_ thing Gavin’s ever experienced, before he realizes he has to fucking shower and toss his sweats in the washer. Goddamnit.

“Con.” He sighs, eyes still closed, head still pressed to Connor’s. “I’d love to lay here and cuddle like a coupla highschool sweethearts but I gotta fuckin’ shower.” He opens his eyes to find Connor already looking, smiling.

Connor laughs and it’s like music. “That’s fine.” He kisses Gavin quickly, chaste. “I’ll be out here.” Gavin can hear a “ _Waiting._ ” follow after and it’s a testament to how easily Gavin’s heart can just _stop fucking working._

He sits up, letting go of Connor’s hand at the last possible second, squeezing when he does eventually have to let go.

He’s a bit surprised (disappointed?) that Connor doesn’t suggest getting in with him.

Eh, what the hell, he’s too tired to get up to frisky business in the shower anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howdy, from Texas. It’s 3:58 AM AND IT TOOK ME A FEW HOURS TO POP THIS BABY OUT... hope y’all likey! ;^)
> 
> Connor will be... snooping next chapter. Bc he likes information, obviously, and wants to know what Gavin likes...


	34. prick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok... so I thought the last chapter was the longest I would do, but this is longer!!! I’m rlly proud of myself smh!!! Hope y’all love it!

Connor hears Gavin’s clothes hit the floor through the bathroom door, wishing a bit that it was open, so he could see, if only to watch Gavin.

His hand absentmindedly slides over his thigh as he recalls Gavin’s mouth around him just minutes before, grazes his dick and he aches with the touch. It’s not bad, just not comfortable. He feels exhausted in a most pleasant way, a sigh escapes him, fills the empty room.

His hand rests on his thigh and he can see his dick glistening with a mixture of spit and ejaculate. It’s not like he made a move to dry off when Gavin stopped sucking (when he _swallowed_ Connor’s come.) Connor’s toes curl, and he’s filled with an inexplicable obscene urge.

He inches his hand over to his dick, drags a finger across the slick (his muscles twitch, legs spread a bit further, overly sensitive after orgasm), index collecting the saliva Gavin left behind, before bringing it to his lips. He blinks, analyzing (surprise 1: the saliva belongs to Gavin! surprise 2: the ejaculate belongs to himself!) before closing his eyes and _tasting_.

He slips his fingers further into his mouth than necessary, feels the semi-sweet mixture coat his tongue, a bit drunk on the feeling spreading through his chest.

Oh, he likes this, his other hand slides up over his hips, across the plains of his abdomen, before settling on his nipple, giving it an experimental quick squeeze (twist) between his index and thumb. He’s breathing heavily again, but he’s at a loss. He’s not soft anymore but he can’t (still aches), doesn’t necessarily _want_ to come again, just likes skirting around the concept. His hand slides from his chest onto the bed. His fingers curl into the softness of his tongue before he pulls them out of his mouth, that hand now also on the bed. He sighs again, but the room’s filled with the sound of semi-distant running water.

He didn’t hear the shower turn on before but now it’s all he can hear, clear plops only barely muffled by the door. He wonders what Gavin’s thinking in there, behind that door, alone in a room without Connor. Hopefully, much the same.

He sits up, the bed barely creaking beneath him. He has around 10-15 minutes to wait while Gavin’s in the shower, decides on snooping around his bedroom. He’d only given it a quick glance earlier, hadn’t really given it enough attention to actually learn anything.

He scans the room a second time, in better detail. An analysis of the tour posters on the wall tell Connor they belong to Ariana Grande (2017, Dangerous Woman tour, a 4% chance of Gavin having actually attended, considering he was only 15 at the time, but possible. More likely to have placed a bid for it.) and Florence + the Machine (2035, Farewell Tour, a 97% chance he attended, considering he would have the independence and funds to do so.) Connor wonders for a moment if Gavin enjoyed the performance, a little envious. He hasn’t gotten to go to a concert yet since he began developing his own taste in music. Maybe Gavin would like to go with him sometime.

Connor smiles to himself before moving on, his eyes landing on Gavin’s dresser, his tie still folded, neat and tidy, on top of the painted-black wood. He doesn’t pick it up, huffs a tiny laugh at the thought of asking Gavin, at work, some other time in the near future, if he could go to his house again, to “retrieve his tie.” He looks past the tie, to the dresser itself, his optics highlighting the most heavily-used drawer, probably for underwear and socks, as is typical with the top drawer. 

Curiosity gets the best of him (curiosity of what kinds of underwear Gavin prefers, more like) and his hand hangs on the knob before pulling it open.

He was right, it’s a underwear drawer, but there’s a notebook (the textured brown crocodile pattern worn away at the corners, exposing cardboard, not an incredibly expensive item, but obviously well-loved) set comfortably on top of rolled up boxers (a surprisingly differing array of colors) and briefs (only in the shades red and black.) 

He shouldn’t look. What if it’s something very close to Gavin’s heart? Something he doesn’t want read? Connor sits for a moment, and, horrifically, his curiosity (his natural investigative nature) overrides every diagnostic telling him he should put the book back.

He flaps it open, the unlabelled front tapping against his left hand, before taking the edge of the pages and flipping through it, just to get a feel for what’s inside before actually looking within, testing the waters before invading Gavin’s privacy.

It’s words, and every few pages, little pictures. Poetry? Ok, he’s feeling less bad about looking within, still a little bit guilty, just glad that it’s not a diary of some sort. He steps backwards a few steps, plopping onto the bed, the coolness of the comforter reminding him he’s still 75% naked, and flips to a random page titled “prick.” Lowercased and punctuated, a popular way of stylizing from Gavin’s formative years. 

Connor reads a few lines before realizing it’s not simple poetry, but lyrics, an occasional few chords written beside some of the words. Gavin plays an instrument?

It takes a few more lines to realize the song’s about him. 

His eyes widen a bit, can feel the heat collecting in his cheeks, his curiosity (it’s a little selfish) even stronger now that he knows the “prick(.)” of the song is him. It’s all swears, all aggressive, beautiful, wording and Connor’s cheeks lift, his sight narrowing. Thinly-veiled adoration clear through the poetry of it and he wonders how long ago Gavin wrote the serenade. His eyes draw to a shakily drawn circle near the edge of the page, colored in with a blue pen and it takes a second, because it’s the wrong shade of blue (that dark saturated navy that most blue pens are), but Connor realizes it’s his LED. He glides a finger across the drawing, feeling the indentations on the page, following the circles arch. He doesn’t register that the shower’s turned off until Gavin’s already in the doorway, towel hung around his waist.

“Ok, don’t look,” _Shit._ He’s not supposed to be looking at this, Gavin is going to be embarrassed and probably not in a fun way if he knows Connor pilfered through his song book. “I forgot to grab clothes when I- _fuck,_ Connor, _you couldn’t‘ve put on your fuckin’ pants while I was showering_?”

Gavin’s out of the shower, in his doorway, one hand over his eyes (as though he hadn’t just told Connor to not peek at him (a demand he is refusing, by the way)) and his other holding up a grey towel (bought a towel set to match his comforter?) This is the most skin he’s seen on the detective, enough to make the guilt of his actions be forgotten. Forget the action altogether.

His eyes roll over Gavin, hair wet, sticking to his neck, cheeks ruddy under his hand and his shoulders, broader than Connor’s. The level of muscle-definition (not ridiculous, but by no means is he out-of-shape) surprises him but not as much as the green ink curling towards Gavin’s ribs from his back. He can barely see it, and only because Gavin’s hand is lifted to his eyes. He wasn’t aware Gavin had a tattoo (possibly more than one) and he wants to feel the raised skin with his mouth.

Connor is... thirsty suddenly. He swallows, a bit thickly, before pulling his eyes away.

Gavin’s chest... is not helping Connor’s sudden parchedness. He has chest hair, enough to where it’s definitely there, but not too much to where Connor can’t still see the skin beneath. His pecs are full (squeezable(?)) a bit reddened from the heat of the shower. When Connor reaches the towel, barely hanging around Gavin’s defined, but still thick, hips, he feels a bit like he’s fallen from the sky into a forest, like he hit every branch on the way down. 

Gavin’s beautiful.

“What?” And _Connor said that out loud_ , the level of awe in his voice sounding like it came from another person. Gavin’s silent for a moment, his lips suck into his mouth, before popping out. Hand still over his eyes. “You- you can’t just _say_ shit like that to me-.” It sounds like he’s about to give a reason as to why Connor can’t say shit like that to him, but he stops, as though he can’t find one.

“I’m not necessarily sorry, but I hadn’t actually meant to say that out loud.” Connor’s cheeks are flushed and he’s still exploring Gavin with his eyes. Gavin’s face gets exponentially redder in the silence. “Ah. You can change in front of me. I don’t mind.” Connor can hear the smile in his voice and Gavin looks like he’s about ready to combust. “Really.”

“I-?” He hisses a sigh through his teeth. “Ok, _fuck_.” He power walks to his dresser, not looking at Connor, purely out of embarrassment. He turns away from Connor and he can finally see the tattoo in its entirety. A myriad of thinly outlined snakes, green with red underbellies, circling, twisting, intertwined, biting themselves and each other. It spans over his back, but leaves the small of it empty. It’s magnificent, his hands itch to run over it. 

Gavin pulls out another white shirt and red basketball shorts from a lower drawer, before grabbing boxers, and shit, Connor forgot the songbook was still in his hand, not where it’s _supposed_ to be. Gavin freezes for moment, and Connor’s positive he knows the book is missing. Gavin pulls them out, pulls on the boxers and shorts in one go, refusing to give Connor a show (he did get to see his ass for a split second as the towel fell but that wasn’t really what he wanted.)

“Ah... disappointing,” slips past his filter and into the tense air. Funny how his filters don’t work around Gavin. Gavin clicks his tongue, shooting Connor a glare. 

“Well, fucking _sorry_ I didn’t give you the anti-strip-tease you wanted.” His eyes shift to the book in Connor’s lap, which makes his neck heat in shame, before he’s _clearly_ looking at Connor’s dick. He closes his eyes a bit dramatically, screws them shut for a second before shoving his arms into the shirt. Connor senses he’s not in trouble for looking at Gavin’s book, despite the detectives mocking tone, his body language positive, and smiles. Gavin pulls the shirt over his head-

“Don’t put on a shirt,” Connor blurts. He wants to _feel_ the tattoo later (he’s positive a Later is happening), and that’ll be easier if Gavin doesn’t put on a shirt. Also, Gavin looks quite good like this, and Connor doesn’t want to ruin it with a shirt. “Uh. Please.” 

Gavin’s face is obscured by the shirt, half-over his head, and he’s frozen in a comical pose, his shirt holding up his arms in a weird way.

“You had to wait ‘til I almost had it on to ask?” His voice is muffled by fabric. Connor’s eyes are where his face should be for a second before drifting to his stomach, the muscles there tensed in a way that sends an inexplicable feeling through Connor’s chest. He’s breathless.

“Yes.” Gavin sighs through the shirt before pulling it off, folding it again before stuffing it in his drawer. He stays at the dresser, silent. Connor’s eyebrows lift and he’s about to say something before Gavin speaks.

“So, uh... which ones did you read?” _Oh._ No point lying now, not that Connor was intending to, the book was in his lap still after all. He smiles, reassuring, in case Gavin turns around.

“Only one.” He pauses. “Just ‘prick.’” Gavin crouches suddenly, hand braced on a dresser-knob, silent before letting out a noise not terribly unlike a boiling teakettle. Connor doesn’t have it in him to be worried, is entirely comforted in the fact that Gavin’s cute-embarrassed, not mad-embarrassed.

“Ffffffffffuck,” he’s whispering, almost to himself. “Couldn’t’ve been any other fuckin’ one-“ Connor can’t help himself.

“I loved the part where you compared my moles to constellations,” he chimes. Gavin screams.

“If you don’t stop right there, I’ll kill you and then myself.” Connor smiles, no longer reassuring, entirely teasing, when Gavin finally turns to look at him. He’s blushing, and there’s a massive frown on his face, but there’s nothing behind it. Connor softens, feels his eyes warm at the sight of him.

“It was nice.” He says it softly, so fond it stings a bit. Something flashes through Gavin’s eyes (pride, perhaps?) and his frown dissipates, leaving a familiar scowl. “You play guitar?”

“Uh, yeah...” He’s still crouched on the floor, starts to stand, his hand massaging at the back of his neck.

Connor smiles, conveying through his eyes that he wants to hear the detective play. Gavin’s lips push out before returning to their usual state.

“I’m _not_ playing for you-“ Connor mimics Gavin’s habitual offended/ ~~embarrassed/shocked~~ tongue-click, and Gavin starts his own offended/embarrassed/shocked tongue-click before stopping himself. “I- I need to prepare myself- _emotionally,_ to play in front of you, you fucking dork.”

“But you will play for me?” He plops on the bed next to Connor, his bare shoulder brushing against Connor’s clothed one, his eyes on the songbook for a second before drifting to Connor’s chest. He looks up to the ceiling, and Connor notices a freckle under his chin.

“Uhhh, fuckin’ eventually, I guess.“ Connor smiles, his hands coming together in a light clap. He loves the idea of ‘eventually.’

“Yay-“

“Yeah, yeah, _yay_ , please for the love of god, put on your fucking pants, already.” Connor’s hands lower back in his lap.

“Gavin, you’ve already seen me naked, so what does it matter if I don’t have clothes on or not? It’s actually surprisingly comfortable this way.” Connor’s actually not all that keen on being naked, it’s all the same to him, is playing devil’s advocate simply to play on Gavin’s responses.

“Because-!” His eyes fall to Connor’s, jumping to his chest, then his eyes. Connor can’t help the pull of his cheeks.

“Besides, my bottoms have ejaculate on them.” That was the actual reason he hadn’t put them on yet. He wasn’t terribly averse to wearing clothes with bodily fluids on them, but had a feeling that Gavin would be. He’s right. Gavin makes a kind of “oh, I see” face.

“I- uh, you can wear something of mine, then, I guess, if you want.” The idea of wearing something that smells like Gavin is... pleasing.

“I _do_ want.” He knocks Gavin’s knee against his own before leaning, kissing his forehead before standing up, and stepping to the dresser. “Is there anything you _don’t_ want me to wear?” Connor looks back, and Gavin’s eyes are filled with so much... it’s a bit scary to say love, but it’s what’s there.

“No, you can have everything.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> smh, I’m jus saying before u guys have to wait a day or two, he’s gonna be like “uh, fuck, I mean, you can wear anything, smh” bc Gavin’s Gay And had a Romantic Slip Of The Tongue.
> 
> Also, I rlly liked writing this chapter!!! Them just Bantering. Being cute,... Gavin Being So Embarrassed by his “dumb poetry” his legs give out,.. also his guitars under the bed smh...  
> Hope y’all liked this!!!!!
> 
> ALSO UNRELATED but I have a tumblr... if anyone is... interested... I’m @narcophilia and I have an art blog that I sometimes post my main shit on and spend twenty minutes sorting things back in order... @theangrymortal


	35. cyber-drank, terrible, and y-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shorter than the last two... so sad

“ _No, you can have everything_.”

Fuck. Gavin didn’t mean to say it like that, all lovesick and _gross_.

“I mean, uh, you can _wear_ anything that’s in there- is what I meant, uh-“ Fuck. He’s the most awkward motherfucker alive.

Connor’s laughter, for once imperfect (always breathtaking), is pointed away from Gavin, his attention fixed to the boxer drawer, his hands rifling through them.

“I choose...” Connor’s hand shoots up, a pair of cyan-blue boxers patterned with over-easy eggs in his grip. “ _These._ ” Connor smiles back at Gavin, triumphant and teasing. 

“What the fuck?” He can feel a smile pull at his lips. “Where were those even at?” 

“They were in the leftmost corner, partially obstructed by...” He dips another hand in the drawer, pulling out a significantly more lacey and tight underthing held between two fingers. His eyebrow lifts with the sides of his mouth as he turns back to Gavin. “These?”

“I- a friend-“ Gavin sputters, feeling himself heat up. Chris, the cheeky son of a bitch, bought him those (tacky, pink, satin ( ~~they don’t look half-bad on him~~ )) for his birthday two years back. “ _Chris_ , it was a gag gift-“ His borderline unintelligible excuses are interrupted by Connor’s soft laughter.

“Alriiiight,” He says faux-comforting, mischief in his face taken down a few notches, as he places the offending underwear back in the top drawer. “No need to get flustered, Gavin. Not until later.” He tacks on a wink. _Later_... sounds nice, if it doesn’t involve Connor proactively embarrassing Gavin about his personal items, which it most certainly will.

He groans theatrically, throwing himself back onto the bed, squishes his eyes shut for a moment before staring at the ceiling, suddenly sucked into the depth of how much he loves being with Connor.

He loves talking like this, loves how Connor’s a massive tease when they’re together, when he’s usually more emotionally-withdrawn at the precinct. He loves how despite the way he presents his embarrassment, every moment with Connor is so incredibly _comfortable_. His hands come up to his eyes, rubbing away emotional goop.

Gavin lays there for what feels like forever before Connor sneaks up to his lower peripheries. He lifts his head slightly, watching Connor (his shirt is buttoned up now, and the boxers are alarmingly cute on him) as he speaks, settling alongside Gavin on the bed.

“I’m only slightly offended you didn’t want to watch _my_ anti-strip-tease, but I’ll put my fractured pride aside.” He speaks seriously, pronouncing each word perfectly, and pulls a laugh from Gavin.

They don’t speak for a few beats, their legs hanging off the side of the bed, knees touching, and it’s so comfortable, Connor’s hand running over Gavin’s arm in that unthinking way (that way Connor just _does things so fucking intimately_.)

Gavin can’t believe he wants to be with Connor even when he isn’t hard. It’s definitely a sad thing to be shocked by, (like, holy shit, he definitely dropped the ball there) but he’s _never_ felt like this before. Never fallen this fucking _hard_. 

Connor interrupts his thoughts, speaking into the empty room in the same way children at a sleepover speak at 2AM, like he’s telling a secret.

“You know, I hadn’t really planned this far ahead.”

“Huh?” Gavin was too busy in his feelings to catch up with the semi-sudden change in topic.

“I had intended to come over to your home. I had hoped we would kiss again,” He smiles, soft. “But I hadn’t thought of what I wanted to do past that point, which is a very new inadequacy for me, by the way- What I mean to say is that it’s only 5:49.” He pauses, his hand still in the crook of Gavin’s elbow as he waits for a response.

“...uh. Do you wanna- do something?” Gavin kinda soft-core gesticulates, his unattached-to-Connor arm rising from the bed.

“Yes. I’d like to spend the night with you.” He says this blunt, not a spot of shame. “And maybe... watch a movie, perhaps...” Blue blush floods his cheeks and Gavin doesn’t get how he can be so forward with asking to sleep with him, but so shy in others. “Dinner?” 

“Dinner?” Gavin didn’t know Connor could eat. His cheeks flush an even deeper shade of blue, the finger on Gavin’s arm tracing a circle with more fervor than before. “Uh, sure, I could do dinner- er, can _you_?”

“I haven’t really gotten the chance to make use of it, as it’s only been a week, but there’s been program updates that involve taste reception. Rather than simple analysis, I can fully taste fluids and solids. So far, I’ve only tasted the Cyber-DRANK, _terrible_ , and y-“ Connor freezes a moment, his lips smack. “Just the Cyber-DRANK, actually.” 

Gavin doesn’t have to be a detective to know Connor must’ve tasted something embarrassing, but he doesn’t push for an explanation, instead starting to get caught up in the idea of giving Connor his first taste of actual food.

Gavin’s by no means an amazing cook or anything, but he knows how to make a mean fettuccine alfredo.  
He would consider Italian his specialty, but what that really means is he can toss a bunch of fucking basil and oregano into a sauce (whether it be red, white, pink) and call it a day. Nonetheless, he wants Connor to try his fettuccine alfredo. Hopes to see him try to slurp up a noodle with too much earnest and have it slap him in the face.

Ah. That’s a good thought. He sits up, itching to get in the kitchen.

“I’ll make us dinner, then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SMH sorry for the delay!!!! I’ve been Super Tired! Also!!! This chapter was jus a little bit difficult to write because I wanted to fit a Lot of Stuff in it, but halfway thru I realized I would have to split it up bc I can’t have Connor eat fettuccine AND NOT DESCRIBE HIM TASTIN IT FROM HIS POV bc that would be an ATROCITY!
> 
> but anyways.... hope u Enjoyed.... I’ll pop out this next chapter fairly quick? Probably tomorrow or tonight!
> 
> also dipdopofthedip is my friend-beta-biatch who I adore.... smh my head,.., thank u, bitch


	36. i dream of fettuccine.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor eats some fettuccine and Is in love with Gavin, this ain’t news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so. I’m a liar... I said this would be ready yesterday but u know!!! It’s rlly hard describing tastes somehow

Connor’s sitting on Gavin’s couch, directly in the center, hands clasped in his lap, and it’s a bit strange, the amount of air boxers let circulate. He exclusively wears briefs, so this is new. He keeps readjusting himself, fidgeting. Connor’s anxious, for reasons not clear even to him, about trying food.

He’d understood the parameters of the update, but hadn’t really gotten to make use of them since, only twice had he gotten the chance to truly tasted something, let it swirl around his palate, not just analyze it. 

The Cyber-DRANK was truly awful, and the mixture of his own ejaculate and Gavin’s saliva... wasn’t necessarily pleasant or bad, but the feeling he felt as he tasted it was... _different_. Nice. Do emotions affect taste? Memories? Or is it the other way around?

“You can turn on the tv, if you wanna, I’m gonna be cooking for a while,” Gavin calls from the kitchen, not turning to Connor as he pulls ingredients from his fridge and cupboard. 

“May I ask exactly what you’ll be cooking?” Connor blinks as he speaks, turning on the tv. It’s the news.

“Uh- my specialty.” Oh? So, Gavin cooks enough to have a specialty. 

“And that is..?” He blinks, switching the channel to something less... news.

“The dish that I think I’m best at,” Connor’s attention flits away from the tv to Gavin.

“Are you being purposefully vague in an attempt to pleasantly surprise me?” 

“...Maybe so.” Connor can hear the ‘you’ve caught me’ness in his voice, can see the adorable redness in the tips of his ears.

They stop talking and the silence is comfortable, everything is comfortable, the sizzling of something in butter in a pan, the knock of metal on the stove, all from Gavin, out of Connor’s sight.

All he can think of is how Gavin is doing this for him. Something so small and important, another first time given to the detective. Connor wants to give him every first time he has.

Twenty minutes pass, and Connor’s attention eventually moves from Gavin ( _gavingavingavin_ ) to the true crime on the television. Feels a bit like work, but this ones interesting enough. It’s an cold case, clearly a rehashing from at least 20 years ago. 

Homicides don’t stay unsolved for long, not anymore, forensics are something close to perfect.

“Ok, uh, close your eyes.” Gavin’s voice is near, maybe 6 feet behind him. He closes his eyes.

“They are.” Gavin hesitates a moment before his footsteps come closer. Connor feels the couch cushion cave as Gavin slides into the space next to him. 

Glass against glass, he probably set down a plate on the coffee table, then a small “tk!” of metal against glass from where Gavin’s lap ought to be.

Moments pass, silent besides the tv, and the grind of what’s probably a fork against the plate. A plop, and Gavin makes a small annoyed sound. 

“... sorry, I’m tryna get you a good bite and the chicken won’t stay the fuck on.” There’s a pause, Gavin’s not moving. He breaths, soft, and Connor can feel it, just barely. “Open your mouth.”

Connor does, and an assortment of snakes (noodles) and apparently chicken enter his mouth. He makes it his mission to not analyze the components, but _taste_ them. His first impression is that it’s salty. He closes his mouth as Gavin slips the fork past his lips. He lets the food sit on his tongue, tasting what appears to be some kind of creamy sauce. It’s delightful. Savory, and there’s a kinda thickness to the taste itself, like it’s a bit bland in a flavorful way. Huh.

“Uh, you have to chew.” Yes. His shifts the forkful with his tongue over to his molars and sinks his teeth in. The bite somehow releases more flavors, mostly in the salty category, but there’s hints of something fresh-tasting, a bit sweet, an herb?

If his eyes weren’t already closed, they would be. It’s good. Really good. His teeth sink into something different, something that doesn’t give as easily as the noodles, so the chicken. Salty. Everything’s salty but it’s good. Something tiny crunches between his teeth, and a little explosion of spice hits, stings his gums pleasantly. Pepper?

He chews, all these flavors slowly becoming one and it’s amazing. He swallows, the taste following down his throat. He opens his mouth again, waiting for Gavin to give him another bite.

There’s a pause, and Connor opens his eyes just as Gavin’s pushing another forkful past his lips.

“So, uh, you like it.” He pulls the fork out and up of Connor’s mouth. Gavin’s smiling, small, a bit proud.

Connor chews, swallows, relives the entire experience again, a smile blooming on his face. “Yes. It’s amazing. You’re a _fantastic_ cook, Gavin.”

“Only Italian, I pretty much suck at anything else.” He’s looking down, but Connor can sense the teensy-weensy bit of pride/embarrassment weaving its way into his features.

Connor leans into Gavin, bumping his shoulder with his own teasingly, before giving him a kiss on the temple, getting a whiff of Gavin’s shampoo, coconut-lime. He breathes it in, quick, before leaning back into the couch.

“Thank you.” 

_I love you_ is much too early but it pushes against the inside of Connor’s lips anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **God** : please, shaylee, PLEASE make good use out of the three hours you have before and after work.  
>  **[○]** write a chapter for Gavin... please.  
>  **[×]** send memes to destiny (dipdopofthedip) and talk about ocs  
>  **[□]** contribute to society
> 
>  **ME** : *stopped reading after the word “destiny”*  
> .  
> .  
> .  
>  _ **[×]**_


	37. horses, man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this is pure fluff

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SMH A BITCH GOIN THRU A LOT (i’ve Actually just been sleeping and partying with my good friends!!) RN

Gavin flips on a movie from the late 2010s (it was rated r and he was too young to see it without a parent when it came out) and they slip into a silence that lasts (save the occasional “holy shit”s) until it’s over. It ends fucking weird, but Gavin likes it anyways.

“Wow... Fucking _horses_ , man. That went _way_ different than what I was-“ Gavin’s eyes shift to Connor and he’s... whole-ass asleep, his head against the back of the couch, the position a bit weird-looking to Gavin, solely because Connor’s mouth isn’t wide open, like any human’s (Gavin) would be if sleeping in the same position. “Oh.”

Wait. Huh? Do androids just conk out like humans, or is it a choice to go into, uh, sleep-mode(?)? Maybe he just had a lot of new information to process? Either way, the trust placed in him makes Gavin feel a bit fuzzy in the head.

He leans back, mimicking Connor’s posture, before reaching with the arm furthest from Connor, cupping Connor’s ear and repositioning his head onto Gavin’s shoulder. Connor doesn’t stir. Gavin settles a bit until he’s comfy again before grabbing the remote and checking out more movies.

~~

Another weird old movie later and Connor’s still asleep. Gavin has to pee _real_ bad... but he doesn’t wanna break the moment they’ve been having (mostly a moment he’s been having, seeing as Connor’s asleep.) 

He holds Connor’s head up with one hand as he stands, before using both to lay him back against the couch as gently as possible before he skitters to the bathroom.

~~ 

Connor’s still asleep when he gets back. Gavin sinks into the couch again, watching Connor in a way he hasn’t before. Without risk. His face is distinctly delicate, and Gavin’s hands ache to trace the angles of him. The soft curve of the bridge of his nose, his cheeks bones high but not harsh, the cleft of his chin a small reminder of masculinity in a form rife with femininity. Fuck. He’s so pretty, so handsome. Goddamn. 

The attention to detail is fucking crazy, and it’s a bit weird to think of Connor as an art piece but he really _is_. Someone made him, put their heart into his every pore, and Gavin couldn’t be more grateful for their sacrifice.

The tips of his fingers slip into the space between Connor’s head and the couch, barely past his hairline, his thumb barely stroking the darkest freckle placed in the center of Connor’s cheek, the skin tugging a bit beneath his finger.

He’s warm, soft, and it’s not a surprise to Gavin but it stays in his thoughts for several seconds longer than necessary as if it _was_ new information. 

Fuck. Fuck. _Fuck._ He’s in _deep_.

“How long’re you gonna be asleep, asshole?” Gavin mutters to himself. It’s actually getting a bit late, and if Gavin were being honest, he’s feeling a bit tired himself, and seeing Connor asleep isn’t helping. Should he take him to bed? Gavin can think of no reason why not, but his back still aches a bit from last time. 

He’s gonna stretch. It’s gonna be a bit lame, but he’ll fuckin’ do it, not like Connor’s awake to look at him ~~practicing safe lifting procedure~~ being a loser anyways. So he stretches, ending in a few twists before standing over Connor for a few moments, quiet except for the tv, volume set on low.

Hm. Uh. How the fuck is Gavin gonna pick him up exactly? He goes in, an attempt to princess-carry Connor, palms up, before pulling back. Uhhhhh, maybe the same kinda carry he did before? Hm, no. He’d need a hand to bring Connor’s head to his shoulder, and Gavin doesn’t really wanna exert that Level of upper-body strength by holding up Connor with one arm.

On his... back? Maybe? _Ok_ , this is stupid, maybe the princess-carry’s the way to go. Fuck it. 

With one knee on the couch, his other leg straight, Gavin slides his hands under and around Connor’s shoulders and under-knees. 

“Ok, Pinocchio,” He whispers, lifts and _holy shit_ Connor’s _heavy_ , and kinda stupid-big. His legs are long as hell, ridiculous, ending in shin-high black socks (cute.)

Gavin can make it to the bedroom. He can make it. No sudden movements, he will _not_ wake up Connor, not on his fucking _life_.

He walks as steadily as possible, sidestepping when he gets to the hallway ( _why the fuck did they make this shit so narrow_?) almost knocking Connor’s head on his bedroom’s doorframe when they get there.

Gavin tries, _god_ , does he try, to slowly set Connor on his bed, but he pretty much drops his body on the comforter (fuck, he didn’t think this through, the blanket isn’t pulled back), only gingerly laying down his head on Gavin’s pillows.

He pulls the comforter from his side over Connor, the entirety of it on Connor’s side, above and below him. It looks a bit ridiculous but at least he’s covered.

“Be right back.” It slips out and Gavin can’t find a reason why he’s speaking to a sleeping person, just comes out.

He goes into the living room, turns off his TV, before rinsing his and Connor’s (it’s embarrassing, how quick his heart soars at the thought of his things becoming Connor’s one day) dishes, before setting them in the dishwasher. He flicks off the lights and heads to the bathroom to brush his teeth. 

It takes all of two minutes, he runs his tongue over smooth teeth and he’s ready to sleep, finally.

He stands in the doorway for longer than necessary, just watching Connor in his bed, sleeping. He flicks off his light and slides into bed, under soft thin sheets. Good thing he runs hot anyways, or he probably wouldn’t be able to sleep barely covered like this.

But he does, the thought of being with Connor keeping him warm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> truly sorry for my week vacation! a bitch jus been sleeping baby!!
> 
> hope y’all likey this pure fluff..


	38. us. is nice.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> :-)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SORRY FOR THE FUCKIN UNANNOUNCED HIATUS BABES

Connor is suddenly surrounded by darkness and warm covers. This is not the state he was in when he initially decided to go into sleep-mode. 

After dinner he’d started to feel a bit overwhelmed. He’d made use of an entirely new sensory experience, more than once, and he was acutely aware that he needed... a “nap”, as humans say.

It wasn’t hard to enter sleep-mode, the movie, strange and funny, and Gavin’s soft occasional rumbles of surprise made it incredibly easy. He was undeniably safe, so he did as he would if he were with Hank, just slipped into slumber, wordless. He had expected to wake up on the couch, Gavin lightly shaking his shoulder or maybe kissing him awake.

It takes less than a quarter-second to register that he’s in Gavin’s room beside him, under his comforter. 

Wait, that’s not right. The comforter is _around_ him.

Gavin is under his sheets, which isn’t life-endangering or anything, but surely it’s not terribly comfortable, considering the temperature in the apartment is currently 65 (Connor noted when he first stepped in that Gavin likes to keep it a bit chilly.) 

Connor feels a flush creep up his neck, a needlessly warm feeling slithering into his heart and staying there. There’s a lump in his throat (welcomed) as he lays the comforter across Gavin before slipping under it himself. 

Not to sound like Gavin, but what a... (sweet, caring) dumbass. Connor can’t get cold on the level that humans do, besides he was in sleep-mode, he wouldn’t be able to feel anything anyways. Gavin sacrificing his own comfort for Connor was unnecessary. Despite this, Connor feels the lump grow, fill his lungs, lifting him up like a helium balloon.

Gavin’s back is to him, calling Connor’s name. He scoots closer, and starts to entwine their legs before remembering he has socks on. It’d be a waste to not be able to feel Gavin. Pulling a leg up one at a time, he slips off his socks and tosses them perfectly into Gavin’s laundry hamper.

He drags a foot across Gavin’s calf (very warm, compared to Connor’s, it feels quite nice) before becoming intertwined with him. Gavin doesn’t stir, a surprisingly heavy sleeper, as Connor presses his forehead against Gavin’s back, his LED’s faint blue glow lighting the snakes up. 

What is it like to have this all the time? To be able to hold someone, often, without it being seen as overbearing? Connor wants terribly to find out. Wants to know so bad it feels like it could shut him down.

But it doesn’t, and his lips press against warm, barely-raised, skin, soft and silent. 

Gavin’s still quiet, save for slow, steady breaths. Connor can feel his heart beat through his lips, no longer pursed.

Sleep-mode is almost involuntary, and it’s like Connor’s an inexperienced swimmer, too far from the shore. He sinks under the waves.

~~

“Hey.” 

Connor’s eyes jerk open and he’s incredibly warm, Gavin still entrapped in his arms and legs. His internal clock tells him it’s 9:09 AM.

Gavin’s voice is soft and hoarse from sleep, and Connor decides this is a most pleasant way to wake up.

“We got work.” Less pleasant, but Connor’s mood is left unsoured. Gavin’s trying to seem casual, as if this is all just the Usual, like he wakes in Connor’s arms all the time. He’s failing, his cheeks a bit flushed, a look Connor hopes he never grows used to.

He gets the message and releases Gavin, who, now given the freedom to do so, turns to Connor and places a quick (yet tentative) kiss on the lips before getting up. Connor’s skin sings with adoration as he watches Gavin dress.

“Thank you for last night.” Gavin’s eyes flit to him, the flush not gone from his face. “I mean you taking me to bed,” Connor smiles, small, mischevious. “but the blowjob was also appreciated,” 

Gavin’s tongue clicks and Connor hears a faint “if you don’t-“ only spurring him to go further, comically enunciating.

“-Would _love_ to try it again sometime.” The exasperation Gavin emits is almost physical before he dramatically gestures to Connor’s slacks, crumpled on the floor.

“Can you put on your clothes? Can you _please_ put on your clothes?” It sounds a bit like he’s quoting something, using a voice that’s not really his, catching Connor up for a second as he tries to find what he’s referring to but comes up nothing with that exact wording. 

“I suppose I could do that.” He slides out of bed and steps into his slacks. “Oh.” His briefs are still in them, precome crusted in some areas. He makes a face and gingerly picks them up. His eyes are locked on the possible stains when Gavin speaks.

“Uh, I can wash them- I mean, you’ll be coming over again some time” Gavin’s eyes flit to Connor’s, hopeful and a bit bashful. “-and you can- uh, pick them up. Or something?” Connor tosses his briefs expertly into Gavin’s hamper the moment he’s given permission to.

“I’ll leave them here, as well as my socks, then.” Gavin nods and there’s a moment of silence. “Could I borrow a pair?”

“A pair of what?”

“Socks. I’m already borrowing your underwear.” Connors hands are at his sides, his fingers tracing the hem for emphasis.

“... You’re right.” He turns, dips his hand into the top drawer, before tossing the black wad to Connor and buttoning up his pants.

Connor catches the socks, wrapped up in itself, as a message rolls into his brain like a thought, but it doesn’t belong to him. A text from Hank.

**Hank: you comin to work today or are u gonna play hooky w ur mans**

Connor pings him back, socks still in hand, pants still crumpled at his feet.

**Connor: I will be arriving with the detective soon. I appreciate your concern.**

He pauses, before composing another message.

**Connor: Also. Your inconsistent shorthand texting perplexes me.**

“-d’ve folded those before falling asleep.”

“Sorry?”

“‘Said I should’ve folded your pants before falling asleep, they’re gonna be wrinkled to shit now.”

“Oh.” 

They collect themselves in a comfortable silence, the slide of clothes across skin.

Gavin’s right, his slacks _are_ wrinkled to shit, and his shirt is... slept in. Not like the precinct has a strict dress code anyways. He tucks his shirt into his slacks and decides his semi-frumpy appearance will have to make the cut. He slides his hands down the front of his shirt out of habit. It does nothing to lessen his imperfectness. 

“So... uh.” Gavin’s finger is pointed, without conviction, a bit limp, at Connor’s hair, does a little lazy swirl as he speaks. “Do you- Can you like, gel that?” 

“If Cyberlife would create an android with palatable ejaculate,” Connor wears innocent like Hank wears clothes, terribly. He lifts his eyebrows in faux-confusion. “-wouldn’t you think they would make my hair stylable?”

“...Is that a yes, asshole?” Despite his words, Gavin smiles (more of a smirk really, but there’s something soft there that Connor can’t quite find the words for) and the strange pride on his face makes Connor’s stomach light up with butterflies.

“It’s a yes, Gavin.”

“Then,” he tilts his head towards the bathroom. “If you’re done being a shithead, d’you wanna un-bed your head?” 

“My head’s bedded?” Gavin’s wording is confusing and it takes Connor the second the question leaves his mouth to understand that Gavin is referencing the state of his hair (awful, by the way.)

“More like empty, but ok.” Ha. 

Connor’s entirely aware this is an insult, but the steps he takes towards Gavin to place a peck on his forehead come as easily as a smile to his face despite it.

They stay like that a moment, Connor’s lips grazing Gavin’s hairline before he rests his chin on the detective’s head. Gavin makes no moves to pull away, and Connor’s arms curl around him, reminiscent of how they woke up.

His hands clasp over the shoulder furthest from him and he closes his eyes and it’s _peaceful_. He could stay like this forever. Freeze up and never move again, and he’d be happy, so long as Gavin was frozen with him.

It feels like a century passes before Gavin speaks again, his voice rough and infinitely warm.

“... Can I fix your fuckin’ hair?”

 _The words_ tell Connor he wants to separate, yet he physically leans into Connor’s touch, makes no move to remove himself. Connor can feel the heat from Gavin’s skin through his button-up.

“Longer, please.” _Forever, please._

“Ok.” Gavin sighs it into Connor’s chest, warm breath filtering through cloth.

Moments pass and collect and pass again and Connor finally lets go, even though he hasn’t had his fill.

“I. Like this a lot.” Connor doesn’t mean to speak really, the words tumbling out like fruits from a ripped grocery sack. “Us. Is nice.” 

Connor doesn’t have to see him, just his voice, soft, pliant, warm like the sun filtering through trees, is all he needs to know Gavin feels the same.

“Shut up and let me fix that head of yours, _Pinocchio._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hitting y’all w this fresh chap @ 4:25 AM, HOLY SHIT YALLLLDNSNDNSNDNSNDNDNNFNDNFNDN it’s been almost 3 weeks???? 
> 
> also, Gavin woke up at 9:00, he just Stared at Connor for nine straight minutes because he Fucking Loves Him.
> 
> ALSO.. This Chapter.... Beat me up in a back alleyway, took my lunchmoney, and left me for DEAD, hope y’all love it bc it’s filled with my blood! My sweat! My tears!!! :-)))
> 
> another thing! I’ve recently joined a discord server and I’m having a nice time! >:-)

**Author's Note:**

> gavin!!! maybe if u weren't an asshole ALWAYS connor would've already smashed!!! you absolute buffoon, u utter idiot!


End file.
